


Damian's Secret

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-06
Updated: 2005-11-06
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Damian has a problem, and Jason and Nathaniel help him out





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Jason had never intended to get involved. It had been a fortuitous set of circumstances to begin with that had clued him into Damian’s predicament. He’d never understood why the millennium old vampire had such low standing in Jean-Claude’s kiss. While it was true that Damian wasn’t a master vampire, neither was Hannah, and at a mere one hundred years of age she had been made manager of Danse Macabre over Damian.

 

It was his foray back into the realm of higher education that alerted him to Damian’s shortcoming. Well, not only that; it was also Nathaniel’s intuitive, sensitive nature and connection to Damian through the secondary Tri that brought the vampire’s secret to light. 

 

Just the week before, Jason had talked to Jean-Claude about completing his education. Even though he had a comfortable and respected relationship with the Master of the City, Jason had haltingly tried to explain that he needed something to challenge him intellectually. Sure, he had plenty of sexual and risky challenges being involved with Anita, the weres, and the vampires, but he needed more. He needed to feel that he had something to contribute other than just being a blood or ardeur snack. 

 

True to form, Jean-Claude had listened intently, smiled indulgently and then insisted on paying Jason’s tuition without even inquiring on cost or what his Pomme intended to study. It was his duty to look after and care for his Pomme de Sang, but more than that there was a deep abiding affection between the two of them that Jason treasured.

 

So after a few whirlwind tours of area colleges, Jason had decided on studying Psychology at St Louis University. Both Anita and Micah had laughed out loud at his choice, though not unkindly. Micah opined that at least he had a ready-made clientele with all the “issues” the lycanthropes and vamps were dealing with. Anita offered that Jason had best pray that neither Jean-Claude nor Asher found out their walking blood donor was now being educated by Jesuits.

 

And that was what led up to his discovery about Damian. He was sitting at Anita’s kitchen table, Nathaniel comfortably resting on his lap while he showed the wereleopard the incredible number of books he needed for the courses he would be taking his first semester. Damian had wandered upstairs, wearing his usual dour expression and dressed for another night of work titillating the ladies at Danse Macabre.

 

Damian’s expression changed as he caught sight of the two young weres, smiling and greeting them warmly. Jason noticed Damian glancing longingly at the textbooks, shyly fingering them as he congratulated the young werewolf for trying to better himself. Jason had taken notice of his interest, and offered to lend Damian his books. The vampire’s panicked look, barely audible “No, I can’t” and hasty exit had floored him, and he had looked to his friend Nathaniel for an explanation.

 

Nathaniel’s pale and anguished face upset Jason even further. “What the hell was that all about? And why do you look like you lost your pet puppy or something?” he asked Nathaniel, hugging him spontaneously in an attempt to chase away the lost, hurt look in Nathaniel’s eyes.

 

“Jason, he can’t read. How could Damian survive a thousand years and never learn how to read? And he wants to so badly…” Nathaniel trailed off, laying his head on Jason’s shoulder as tears slowly made their way down his face. Dumbfounded, there was little he could do but try to console his friend.


	2. Chapter Two

There were times Jason fervently appreciated the stamina and strength he gained from being a werewolf, and continuing his education while still being the Pomme de Sang of the Master of the City counted as one of them. He knew Jean-Claude would reduce his duties if he asked, but since he was paying all the expenses Jason considered it a point of pride that his master was not the least bit inconvenienced by his new endeavor.

 

Several weeks had passed, and even though Jason actually believed his brain would burst from the amount of new information and ideas he was gaining from college, his thoughts still had time to stray to Damian and his illiteracy. Nathaniel was beside himself with worry for the vampire. Jason assumed that Damian was embarrassed by his inability to read, because he was studiously avoiding the both of them, and had shielded himself completely from his wereleopard friend so that Nathaniel could no longer pick up any information about Damian from the marks.

 

Jason sighed. This situation was going to go to hell in a hand basket as fast as you could say “Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter.” Anita was becoming aware something was up, and was eyeing the three of them suspiciously. If that stiff necked Viking thought he was embarrassed before, it would be nothing compared to Anita finding out and getting involved. He had never really paid much attention to Damian in the past, preferring to “live and let live” as it were with him. And the older vampire had developed a tendency to keep a low profile and blend into the background, especially since the vampire numbers in the kiss had swelled with the recent influx of London Vamps. 

 

But Nathaniel was unhappy, and when his friend was unhappy, so was Jason. He didn’t want to interfere or intrude on Damian’s privacy or wishes, but something had to be done to mend the relationship and keep it from blowing up further, and it was going to be up to him to do it. Besides, he admitted to himself, he did like the stubborn Viking and was human enough to not want to see him in pain. An early morning intervention was in order.

 

So Jason found himself sitting in the dark in Damian’s basement apartment, waiting for him to return home from work. He had to admit, the vampire had made good use of the furniture gift certificate he had received from Anita. The blood red leather sofa was plush and comfortable, and the mahogany tables were ornate but not elaborate. The only decorative piece was a beautiful but haunting ocean scene, depicting a moonlit expanse of endless waves as viewed from the bow of a ship. No television though; Jason idly wondered what the vampire did for amusement without a TV or books. He started out of his musings as the basement door open. His nose told him it was Damian, and he heard him start to come down the steps.

 

He knew the instant the vampire became aware of his presence. Damian stopped abruptly a third of the way down the steps, and Jason knew he was incensed. His pale skin had taken on an otherworldly glow and his eyes were a solid emerald green. “Have you no respect for my privacy or possessions?” Damian demanded.

 

Jason took a deep breath. The best defense was a good offence, and he was damned if he was going to back down now. “Just cut the crap, Damian. Nathaniel and I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve the snubbing, and while it doesn’t make my heart break, Nat is upset and if you would bother to think with your brain and not your pride, you would notice that Anita is starting to take an interest,” Jason said in a rush. He was starting to get angry himself. Damian wasn’t the only injured party in this uncomfortable situation. 

 

“I know this has to do with you not being able to read, and that you’re self-conscious about that, but we’re not at fault here so stop punishing us. And how in the hell did you live for 1000 years and never learn to read, anyway?”

 

“And when would I have learned, Jason?” Damian responded angrily. “As a Viking? I was a warrior, not a priest. As She-who-made-me’s slave and whipping boy? Do you think my former mistress was so concerned about my physical and mental well-being that she kept a library for my amusement? Had I shown any desire to read she would only have used that knowledge to further torment me. Pity moved Jean-Claude to ransom me, and the only coin I have to repay him with is by being a pretty decoration at Danse Macabre and keeping the paying customers happy. I am Anita’s vampire servant, but all I am is a burden, an obligation, a hindrance rather than a help – and when she finds out that I cannot even read? How much less of me could she think?” Damian seemed to deflate after his tirade, and quickly turned away, pink tinged tears of shame and dejection filling his eyes.

 

Jason wished he could swallow his words back, and swiftly resolved to do something. He smiled softly and said, “So, I guess I’m just going to have to teach you to read then, huh?”

 

“ WE”RE going to have to,” Nathaniel interjected as he came storming down the basement steps. “Don’t think you’re going to do this without me, Jason. I’m sorry I eavesdropped, but Damian’s my friend and I don’t like being shut out. I want to help.” 

 

Nathaniel had reached Damian by the end of his declaration, and instinctively hugged him. Normally Damian stiffened and pulled away from his touch, but this time the vampire slowly relaxed and allowed it. Jason smiled to himself; perhaps reading wasn’t the only thing the two of them could teach Damian.


	3. Chapter Three

Jason was driving home, thinking about what his Intro to Psychology instructor had said in her lecture about the effects of substance abuse. Dr. Phillips had used the term “hydraheaded” to describe the consequences of addictions, and since he had never heard of the term before, he’d asked her to explain. She elaborated, saying the underlying cause of substance abuse only produces many physical and mental health problems.

 

Jason frowned to himself. That’s exactly how he felt about offering to teach Damian to read. His impulsive offer, no matter how noble it had been, was producing more problems than the original illiteracy. Damian had been shocked, then grateful, that they would take the time to try to educate him. Nathaniel had told him of the overwhelming loneliness the vampire felt, and Jason knew it wasn’t only the self-esteem of learning to read that was important to Damian. It was the sense of belonging, the idea that Nat and he considered him a friend and wanted to help.

 

Secondly, Nathaniel was extremely excited about teaching Damian, and placing way more importance on participating than Jason had anticipated. He needed and wanted to help, beyond simple kindness. Jason knew it had something to do with the closeness of the marks, but he didn’t truly understand the depth of that link. He only knew it was more intimate than the closeness he felt as Jean-Claude’s Pomme de Sang; that it involved a sharing of thoughts, memories, and emotions.

 

Jason knew both Damian and Nathaniel were relying on him, and not only did he have no clue how to go about teaching a 1000 year old vampire how to read, he had to somehow do it clandestinely. He wistfully wished he could ask Richard for advice. As a schoolteacher he would have the most input, but that would be very bad idea on so many different levels. First and foremost, he knew he wasn’t his Ulfric’s favorite pack member, and hadn’t been for a while. That one hurt more than he cared to admit – he had been close with Richard once, even having dinner with his family. But Richard would insist on details, and allowing him to know about Damian would betray the trust the vampire had given him to keep his lack a secret. Worst of all, Richard would want to supervise. And that would be the end of Nathaniel helping. Richard was too much an alpha, and still too jealous of Nat’s involvement with Anita to allow the auburn haired wereleopard to participate.

 

Besides, Jason thought, Richard getting involved upped the chances of Anita finding out. That was an unacceptable risk. He seriously thought Damian would stake himself to avoid that perceived shame. Well, God bless the internet. Maybe he could find some information there.

 

He stopped at a red light, and softly banged his head against the steering wheel. He swore that he was going to get a tattoo of a hydra on his favorite body part, to be a constant reminder that the simplest things had far reaching consequences. Jason winced and chuckled to himself. Ok, maybe not his FAVORITE body part. No reason to get crazy about this.

 

He mentally retracted that statement forty-five minutes into meeting with Nathaniel. No, he decided, there was AMPLE reason to get crazy about this. Nat had brought along Dr Seuss books, and brightly suggested they use them as primers to teach Damian to read. 

 

Jason thought he had managed to keep the incredulous expression off his face, but apparently not, based on the indignant look Nathaniel was shooting his way. “What’s wrong with Dr Seuss? Millions of kids learn to read from his books! Nicky used to read these books to me, and the happiest memories I have are of him stumbling over the rhymes!” Nat fumed at him, brandishing Green Eggs and Ham like a weapon.

 

Jason closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Serenity now. Serenity now. 

 

“Look, that’s the point. It says right here,” Jason countered, pointed at the computer screen, “that ‘fluency and comprehension improve with repeated oral readings’. He can’t be stumbling over the words. Besides which, if I try to make him read Hop on Pop aloud, he’s going to rip my freaking head off and shove it up my ASS!”

 

Jason realized he was gesticulating wildly as he spoke, but he didn’t care. He was on a roll, damn it. “Oh no, he won’t touch you, a member of his triumvirate and Anita’s pet! He’ll only get painfully inventive with me, and you know as well as I do how DAMN inventive vampires can be when they want to!”

 

So much for calming breaths and a mantra. “Look, we have to find a topic or characteristic he likes, something he’s comfortable with and can relate to. Can’t you think of anything?”

 

Nathaniel blinked rapidly, and smiled. “The sea”, he said promptly. “I remember from the original link. He was happiest in a ship on the ocean.”

 

It clicked with Jason; former Viking, the picture in his basement apartment. This was good. He could work with this. “The sea it is then”, he yawned and stretched, and for the first time that day felt his shoulders relaxing. Now to tie that in, and find out if Damian at least knew the letters of the alphabet.

 

Nathaniel grinned at him impishly, and held up his copy of “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” with a hopeful smile.

 

“Hey, it fits” he said, staring at Jason and daring him to say no.

 

Jason moaned, “Just give it up, Stripper Seuss. None of his books.”

 

Nathaniel pouted and swayed his way over to Jason, insinuating himself between his legs, and leaning in to lick and nibble at his chin and lips. Jason’s moans deepened.

 

“Ok, maybe just the A B C book.”


	4. Chapter Four

You think you’re just so freaking clever, don’t you Schuyler?” Jason said softly to himself, laying on his back and messaging his temples tiredly.

 

He had cornered Damian at Danse Macabre two days ago, to surreptitiously find out if the vampire actually knew the letters of the alphabet. As it turned out, Damian did. Jason was both relieved and triumphant at the news. Relieved, because it made teaching Damian how to read just a little easier. Triumphant, because he was off the hook for utilizing the Dr Seuss ABC book that Nathaniel had sex cajoled him into agreeing to use. Damn double jointed wereleopard knew how to get his way when he put his mind to it. Submissive his ass; at least now he really understood what the little minx meant when he said “submissive didn’t mean not in control.”

 

Which brought him back to his current quandary. He and Nathaniel had a beautiful first lesson planned. He had gone out and bought a nicely done replica of a Viking Ship, something Damian could add to the Spartan decorations in his basement. He had made up flashcards of various nautical terms, like “keel”, “oar”, “port”, and “mast”. He had paper. He had pencils. And he had absolutely no where to go to meet that wouldn’t advertise the fact to every vampire, pack or pard member. Too freaking clever by half.

 

It was a useless exercise, but Jason clicked off the options in his mind once again. His apartment was out, since it was in the Circus of the Damned, and close to Jean-Claude. They might as well put a sign on the door, “Quiet, please – 1000 year old vampire learning to read.”

 

Damian lived in Anita’s basement; Nathaniel lived for all practical purposes in Anita’s bedroom, so if the game plan was to keep Anita out of this, both their apartments were out.

 

All three of them worked at the various clubs owned by Jean-Claude, so doing it at any one of their places of employment was out of the question too.

 

He had even tried to get Buzz, who had his own apartment offsite, to let him use it for what he implied was a little one on one time with Nathaniel. He flatly refused, telling him to get his own place if he wanted to practice his insipid little sexcapades. Jason had been indignant that the vampire thought anything Jason had to do with sex was boring. And he had been more than a little surprised that the muscle bound bouncer actually knew the word insipid, and used it correctly in a sentence. 

 

His headache was deepening to migraine proportions, and he still was no closer to a solution when his cell phone rang.

 

“Yeah, Jason here,” he said in a voice that sounded childishly cranky even to his ears.

 

He heard Nathanial’s rich laugh, and then his voice cheerily say “Bad puppy! Bad attitude! What’s your problem? I just called to see if you were all set to teach Damian his first reading lesson.”

 

Jason let loose all his pent up frustrations of the last hour or so. “And where the hell are we supposed to conduct this lesson, Nathanial? Jean-Claude’s bedroom? The dance floor of Danse Macabre?” He felt better after his tirade, but was a little apprehensive about the dead silence he was hearing on the other end. Either Nathanial was giving him the silent treatment, or he was thinking of a solution. He soon found out there was a third answer; the wereleopard was being smug. “Simple, I know of some hotel rooms you can rent by the hour. And believe me, they all have a strict don’t ask don’t tell policy, or they would never get any repeat clientele. I already paid for one for tonight, right after we all get off from work.”

 

Jason immediately felt chagrined. He knew what hotel rooms Nathaniel was talking about, and what they were used for. It couldn’t have been easy for Nathaniel to go back to those places. It had to be a painful reminder of his prostitution past, but he did it for Damian without a second thought. Nat was happy with his life now, Jason knew, and he wanted to share that happiness with Damian. To erase that loneliness and make him understand he belonged too, and that happiness was there for him if he would just recognize and accept it.

 

He was going to teach Damian to read if it killed him. And he was going to make damn sure that Damian knew what his friend had done for him, and that he treated Nathaniel the way the diminutive were wanted and needed to be treated.


	5. Chapter Five

“Finally,” thought Jason, “things are actually going according to plan.” He was unbelievably happy with the progress Damian was making. No, scratch that, gratified and ecstatic fit better. It wasn’t a lack of intelligence that had held the vampire back from reading, it was lack of opportunity. And now that he had the chance, he was soaking up the lessons Jason was giving him with a vengeance.

 

Jason smiled as he looked at his star pupil. It just showed how powerful motivation and desire can be. The red haired vampire had been hesitant that first lesson, still at his core believing that somehow they were going to make him look foolish, to ridicule him in the whole process. Bruce Springsteen was right; Damian’s life could be summed up in one line from Born in the USA - “end up like a dog that’s been beat too much, ‘till you spend half your life just covering up.”

 

He had visibly relaxed when Jason brought the boat and cards out and patiently explained to him how they were going to go about teaching him to read and write. It even had the unexpected result of boosting the ancient vampire’s self esteem, since as Damian learned to recognize the words on the flash cards, he took the time to pass on his knowledge and experiences to the two young weres by explaining the various workings of the ship. Damian was a damn fine teacher and story teller himself. Jason was amazed at how interesting the man was, and a little ashamed that he had only bothered to see him as a pretty face at Danse Macabre, or as Anita’s vampire servant and Nathaniel’s Tri mate. There was a depth of wisdom and a shining personality there, once he took the time to notice.

 

And even better, while the friendship between the three of them had blossomed, the relationship between Damian and Nathaniel had visibly deepened. Nathaniel had given him a carry bag that he could use to store his books and work papers in, hidden under a change of clothes he could claim he was using for work. Damian had been grateful, and suitably touched by the thoughtful gift. The vampire no longer clamped impenetrable shields against the wereleopard, smiling and taking in stride the young man’s presence and affectionate touches. He even felt comfortable enough to seek out Nathaniel at home, asking him to explain or help write a particular word he did recognize and could not sound out on his own.

 

Damian’s reading skills had progressed to the point where they no longer used young adult books for him to read aloud from. Nathaniel had chosen the particular piece of poetry by Masefield that Damian was slowly working his way through this early morning. 

 

“I must go down to the sea again,” Damian read aloud, “to the v…va…” He stumbled, brow furrowed and quizzically looking to his werewolf instructor for assistance.

 

“You can do it, Damian,” Jason encouraged. “Just sound it out.”

 

Uncharacteristically irritated, the pale vampire pushed his blood red hair back from his face and threw the poem onto the bed. Nathaniel quietly went over and plaited his hair for him, and gently began kneading his shoulders. 

 

Damian smiled his thanks, and looked apologetically at Jason. “I am sorry,” he said. “I will try again.” 

 

“Is something wrong?” Jason asked, concerned.

 

Nathaniel leaned in closer to Damian. Nat’s eyes widened in surprise, and he exclaimed, “No wonder you’re having trouble concentrating. You haven’t fed yet. Don’t you always feed at the club as part of your act?” He asked, concerned for his friends welfare.

 

Damian sighed. “Hannah forbade me to feed, as a punishment. It’s my fault; I’ve been challenging her in small ways, but it galls sometimes to take orders from such a young one like that, when I know I can manage the club. She is no more a master vampire than I am, and she felt threatened, and the need to exert her authority,” he explained.

 

Both the weres were indignant, and Damian felt compelled to hold up a hand and actually defend Hannah. “Please, don’t concern yourself. Believe me, as far as punishments go it was the most gently given one I have ever received,” he assured them. “She took great pains to explain that I was free to feed after my shift was over, that I was only forbidden to feed during my performance. I just did not have the time to do so afterward. I did not want to be late for my lesson.” He smiled at the anger still present on both their faces. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

 

Jason was furious. Not only was it a stupid business decision to reprimand Damian in that manner, since his feeding on the clientele was part of the draw of the club, but she was interfering with the progress of HIS lessons. He was about to offer to feed him, even though it would be his second of the evening, when Nathaniel beat him to it.

 

“Well, you’re just going to have to feed off of me tonight, then,” Nat said, spooning Damian from the front and offering him his throat.

 

“No, little one,” Damian demurred, gently moving him away. “I thank you for your offer, but I cannot.”

 

“But why? You’ve feed off of me before, when Anita revived you after your coffin imprisonment,” Nathaniel blurted out, looking perplexed and more than a little hurt. “I enjoyed it, and was happy to donate.”

 

“You enjoyed it a little too much, Nathaniel,” Damian confessed. “It was too sexual, too uncomfortable a feeling for me to ever want to repeat it.” 

 

Jason couldn’t freaking believe his ears. Another one who was going to screw up a good thing. No wonder he was majoring in psychology; he needed the knowledge since it always seemed to fall on him to smack people in the back of the head and make them see the light.

 

He looked over at Nathaniel, and felt his fury rise at the crushed look on his lover’s face. Damn that stubborn vampire to the deepest, darkest pit of hell for pushing the wereleopard away once again. He’d seen dense before, but Damian absolutely took the cake. Sweet, gentle Nat was one of best things that had happened to him since he had been turned, and he was about to throw him away like yesterdays trash. 

 

The hell he was. 

 

He stormed up to the vampire, going toe to toe with him and poking him in the chest for emphasis. “I know of your past, Damian. I am well aware of the tortures Mor..”, Jason paused as the vampire flinched at the name he was about to say aloud. He quickly relented and changed what he was going to say. “All right, “She Who Made You” inflicted on you so she could gorge herself on your terror. And yes, I know that involved being raped by other men. But she was a scary bitch herself, and has that set you off women, for God’s sake?”

 

Jason grabbed Damian’s chin and turned him towards Nathaniel. “LOOK AT HIM. That’s NATHANIEL standing there in front of you. Are you trying to say you feel threatened by HIM,” Jason raged at Damian. “All he’s ever done was show you kindness and offer his friendship and love. And you’re going to have the audacity to TURN HIM DOWN?” The last said with a shout as Jason completely lost his temper. “He’s not looking to jump your bones here, Damian. He just offered to feed you, and if the two of you get some pleasure out of it, so much the better.”

 

“But I have never been a lover of men, Jason.” Damian protested. He looked perplexed, and apologetic, and a little angry, but he was listening intently to what Jason was saying. 

 

“Well hell, neither am I. But I am a lover of Nathaniel. And to be honest, I wouldn’t kick Jean-Claude or Asher out of bed for eating cookies, either,” Jason chuckled. He relaxed a little; it looked like he might be winning this battle. “ I’d probably even include you in that list if you weren’t so damned pig-headed. The point is, when love is standing right there in front of you, practically begging you to take notice and show some affection back, you don’t spit on it. You kiss it, for the love of God.” 

 

Damian looked at Nathaniel, and his eyes opened wide as he suddenly understood exactly what Jason was saying. All of the loneliness he suffered, all of his hunger for affection and acceptance, and the answer was there right under his nose, and he had been too stubborn to recognize it until Jason’s emotionally charged outburst. 

 

The vampire silently cursed himself for his stupidity. It had been unintentional, but he had hurt the one person who had consistently been trying to help him. He looked at the wereleopard standing in front of him, vulnerable and forlorn.

 

”You are a very wise man for someone so young,” Damian told Jason as he turned toward Nathaniel and took his hand, pulling him into an embrace and softly kissing his lips. “I accept your offer, Nathaniel. And while I do not have the reputation of Asher, I am not without talent in that regard. I will make sure you find pleasure in the act.”

 

Nathaniel shuddered, and turned to once again present his neck for feeding. Damian held Nathaniel tightly, his right arm firm against his chest, and his left hand holding the were’s head still. The light bondage was having an effect on the submissive leopard, and his pants were already showing a slight bulge.

 

Damian gave a deep laugh as he noticed. “I haven’t even begun yet, little one,“ he whispered in Nathaniel’s ear. He knew what Nathaniel craved, and resolved to please him as an apology for his thick headedness. He reared back his head, and without warning struck.

 

Nathaniel’s gasp of pain and surprise soon melded into moans of pleasure. The only sounds in the room were a soft sucking noise as Damian fed, and Nathaniel’s whimpers of ecstasy. Damian’s eyes slowly slid closed as the intoxicating sounds and smells of blood and sex began to arouse him. Slowly he knelt down, forcing Nathaniel down with him, until the young man’s ass was nestled against his groin. Subconsciously, his hips began a slow stroking motion, providing the friction his erection desperately craved.

 

Jason laughed as he peered down at his own happily erect penis. “I don’t know what you’re getting all worked up about. Those two are the ones who are going to be having all the fun.” He grinned, and decided that while it wasn’t a good time for him to jump in and play, he would at least take matters into his own hands as it were and enjoy the show.

 

As Damian’s hunger slowly became sated, he undid Nathaniel’s pants and began to stroke him vigorously as he sucked. He became intent on making the young were climax, reacting as if Nat’s refusal to come was an affront; that now that he had allowed himself to cross that bridge into intimacy it was Nathaniel that was holding back. Jason knew what the problem was, and was about to enlighten the vampire when Nathaniel managed to stop his inarticulate sounds of pleasure and actually speak.

 

“Please Damian,” Nathaniel panted. “Please, I need permission, please say yes…”

 

Damian’s eyes, which had long since completely bled to an emerald green, became feral, demanding. He understood immediately what the submissive leopard needed, and growled softly into Nat’s ear a single word, “NOW.”

 

Nathaniel exploded, arching back against Damian with spasms of ecstasy. Damian came also, eyes closed and head flung back with pleasure. Both of their orgasms made all the more intense by the intimacy of the marks.

 

Jason growled his own satisfaction as he stroked himself to completion. Who knew; Damian had a little Dom in him after all. He smiled as he looked at his two friends lying sated in front of him, Damian gently licking the small trail of blood from Nathaniel’s neck. “So Damian, are you relaxed and fed enough to give the poem another go?” he joked. “Or should we all just get toweled off and call it a night?”

 

Damian laughed as he stood and stretched. “Tonight’s lesson is over,” he said as he helped Nathaniel to his feet. “Can we just go home and get showers now?”

 

It only took a few minutes for them to pack up and head for the elevators, Nathaniel in the center with Damian’s arm around his shoulders and Jason arm around his waist. None of them spoke as the elevator descended, content with the silence and the comfort of each others company. 

 

As the doors to the elevator opened, Damian strode out first, only to immediately freeze. Jason was abruptly jolted out of his reverie, and felt thrill of fear; what the hell did the red haired vampire see that terrified him so badly he had adopted the still, rabbit scared “I’m not really here” defensive pose that had saved him so often in the past?

 

Steeling himself, Jason stepped around the vampire to see what the hell was going on. “Oh, shit!” he squeaked. He allowed himself a moment’s annoyance at the unmanly sound he had just made, then quickly discarded the thought as he had more pressing problems to deal with. Namely, Jean-Claude.

 

The Master of the City was lounging indolently in a hotel lobby chair, oblivious to or simply ignoring the stir he was creating with the management and clientele of the establishment. He was regarding the three of them through half closed eyes, a small smile playing across his lips. “Greetings, Mon Ami’s”, he said as he rose liquidly from the chair and strode towards them.

 

Jason glanced back at his allies. Damian was going to be of no help here; he was frozen in place. Nathaniel was channeling Damian’s apprehension, and had managed to hide his 5’6” frame completely behind the larger vampire. Jason mouthed, “Thanks a lot!” to the two of them and turned back to face the music with his master.

 

“Jean-Claude, it’s not what you think”, he said. By that point, Jean-Claude was slowly circling them. He gave an exaggerated sniff, and glanced down at the stain on the front of Damian’s pants. He elaborately arched an eyebrow at Jason, and said “Is it not, my wolf? Because it certainly appears that my underling has been having a marvelous time with my Pomme de Sang and my bad kitty.” 

 

“There’s a really good explanation for this, master” Jason started to haltingly explain. Jean-Claude smiled broadly, and gave a luxuriant laugh the sent shivers down the spines of everyone present. “And I am breathless with anticipation to hear it!” he said, pulling Jason in for a quick embrace.

 

“Relax, all of you. I am not angry; I simply am curious as to what you have been up to these past few months. Did you think me so inobservant that I would not notice the whispers between the three of you and the amount of time you’ve been spending together? Come, let us return to the Circus of the Damned. There is ample time before sunrise for you to enlighten me.”


	6. Chapter Six

It was a quiet ride back to the Circus of the Damned. Damian and Jean-Claude could have flown, but Damian seemed to want the solidarity of being with Jason and Nathaniel. And Jean-Claude was too damned amused by the consternation he was creating to go on alone and give them a break from his presence.

 

They eventually found themselves in Jean-Claude’s office. Jean-Claude reclined in his chair, feet crossed on his desk, his hands behind his head as he regarded his three recalcitrant subordinates. He hadn’t offered them seats. Forcing them to stand sent a very clear message that, while he wasn’t angry with them, the explanation he was about to hear had better be a good one.

 

Damian and Nathaniel stood a little behind Jason, heads lowered and shoulders hunched in classic subordinate positions. Jason took a deep breath, and was about to begin filling his master in on the details, when Jean-Claude spoke, directing his statements to his Pomme de Sang. 

 

“So. Allow me to give you the facts as I know them. I am aware that you three have become close, speaking and meeting with each other furtively. This did not concern me, as you were all performing your jobs admirably, and more importantly, Ma Petite was happy,” Jean-Claude said, as he sat up in his chair and rested his chin on his folded hands. “And as the saying goes, if Mama’s happy, everybody’s happy, especially ME.”

 

Jason barked out a laugh, which he quickly stifled. Damn, he was constantly amazed at the vernacular Jean-Claude knew. He may be a smart ass at heart, but he sensed that now was not the time for jocularity. He would appreciate his master’s knowledge of modern sayings later, when Jean-Claude was in a more receptive mood.

 

The Master of the City stood quickly, and descended upon Damian.

 

“But then Anita’s mood began to change, and I started to get the most interesting reports. Willie tells me that Hannah is very upset; that you, Damian, are apparently questioning her authority and decisions.” Jean-Claude paused in front of the red haired vampire, tilting his head so that he could peer quizzically into Damian’s downcast eyes. “She apparently felt the need to rebuke you this evening, although as punishments go, denying you feeding was hardly severe.” Jean-Claude frowned slightly. “Hannah perhaps does not possess the right temperament for management, particularly of vampires. I will have to address that. But I digress.” 

 

Jean-Claude smiled and straightened, putting a finger under Damian’s chin to lift his face to eye level. “A word to the wise, Mon Ami,” he cautioned. “Do not think that you can question the authority of the likes of my Temoin or Requiem as you did Hannah. They will flog you unconscious, or worse, for such a slight.” 

 

Jean-Claude turned his attention away from Damian, and towards Jason. Placing his arm companionably around his Pomme’s shoulders, he guided Jason towards the sofa and forced him to sit next to him.

 

“So I decided to discover for myself where the three of you have been disappearing to on a regular basis. While an incurious man might accept the obvious signs of sex as a plausible explanation of your activities, I find it too convenient. I also admit to being disappointed in the unsavory dwelling you chose for your assignation. I have taught you better than that, my wolf,” Jean-Claude admonished, sternly looking at Jason and ruefully shaking his head.

 

Jean-Claude patted Jason on the knee, and reclined back comfortably.

 

“Enlighten me as to the true reason Nathaniel is so happy he is walking on air, and Damian has relearned self assurance and authority,” he commanded.

 

Jason took a deep breath, quickly discarding the elaborate explanation he had been formulating and deciding on simplicity. Jean-Claude appeared to be in no mood for bullshit this evening.

 

“We’ve been teaching Damian to read and write,” he replied calmly.

 

Jason grinned as he watched Jean-Claude cover his initial astonishment with his normal impassive courtier expression. “Didn’t see that one coming, did you Jean-Claude?” he teased, smiling broadly at his master.

 

Jean-Claude relented and smiled back at him, shaking his head. “Impertinent as always, Mon Loup,” He was constantly amazed at the boy’s ability to surprise him. “I will assume that there is a lengthy story behind this revelation?” he asked.

 

Jason nodded his head. “It all started with my going back to college,” he began.


	7. Chapter Seven

Jason lounged back comfortably on the sofa as he finished his explanation. “That pretty much brings you up to speed, Jean-Claude,” he said as he concluded his story. He left nothing out, from the moment they learned of Damian’s illiteracy, to explanations of how they accomplished the lessons and the rationale behind choosing that seedy motel. As a general rule Jason kept nothing from his master; he was extremely proud of the rapport they had, and that Jean-Claude respected him as a confidante.

 

Jason became animated as he continued, completely engrossed in what he was relating to Jean-Claude. “And really, it’s a classic case of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs,” he lectured. “Damian’s time with his former master only met his basic needs, like blood and shelter. When you brought him to your Kiss it elevated him to the second level of safety, while becoming Anita’s vampire servant started him into the belong….”

 

Jean-Claude quickly placed a restraining hand across his Pomme de Sang’s mouth, and drolly regarded him. “Perhaps Primo was correct,” he sighed. “Perhaps it is a waste and a mistake to educate one’s human minions.”

 

Jason’s initial shocked expression quickly morphed into an incensed one. As Jean-Claude dropped his hand, he blurted out, “That over-sized, hot headed Roman son of a bitch didn’t use the word ‘minion’, did he?” 

 

Jean-Claude smiled broadly. “Non. I believe the term he used was ‘slaves’, but then Primo is a very old-fashioned vampire,” he replied smugly, amused at the look of righteous indignation his werewolf’s face.

 

“You should have never let him out of that damn coffin,” Jason snarled.

 

“Non, Mon Ami, he is blood-oathed to me and is useful.” Jean-Claude replied smoothly. Teasing the young one was a petty revenge for being taken by surprise with the revelation about Damian, but the consternation on his wolf’s face was priceless. 

 

Jean-Claude’s smile faded as he turned and stared speculatively at the vampire standing a few paces away from him. Damian’s demeanor was his normal rigid calm, head bowed and eyes downcast, his body language screaming inoffensive. Submissive. Cowed.

 

All survival traits honed from more centuries of being Morvoren’s plaything than he thought any being could endure and still stay sane.

 

He’d sworn to rescue the vampire if the opportunity ever arose. An oath he made to himself after Belle had given him to Morvoren for an evening’s punishment. The horror and terror of that lone encounter haunted him still, and he shuddered with the knowledge that Damian possessed the memories of thousands of such nightmares.

 

As he had told the Traveler, these were his lands and his people, and not a petty game. All he had ever desired, yearned for, was power enough to create a safe haven for himself and those sworn to him. Finally fulfilling his vow and liberating Damian had been an affirmation that he had somehow achieved his goal. Damian had become his to punish; his to protect; his to reward. And yet somehow he had failed him, failed to provide for his needs.

 

He’d thought Damian forever broken. Until now, and his involvement with Anita, Jason and Nathaniel.

 

Jean-Claude grimaced as his conscience plagued him. He knew himself to be a shrewd and observant man; he was aware that by becoming Anita’s vampire servant, and being part of her Triumvirate, Damian was once again experiencing more emotions than just fear, and that his powers were strengthening. What the millennium old vampire had still lacked was assurance and self-esteem. Was it possible the two young were’s have given that back to him as well?

 

“Damian,” Jean-Claude beckoned softly. “Come to me.” 

 

Damian quickly closed the distance between them, and went to his knees in front of his Master of the City, letting his blood red hair curtain his face like a shield. Jean-Claude noticed Nathaniel starting to follow his vampire friend, and sharply held up his hand in a mute command to stop. Apparently Damian was not the only one exhibiting stronger personality traits. The anguished wereleopard was darting his eyes between his employer and his friend, uncertain of what he should do. Jason quietly approached and gently led him away, murmuring, “Don’t worry, it will be ok.”

 

Jean-Claude turned his attention back to the man crouched down before him. “Look at me!” he said sharply, and Damian jerked his face upwards to meet Jean-Claude’s. He could discern no defiance in the kneeling man’s eyes, but there was something else there, a spark of independence and pride that he never thought to see present in Damian. He allowed his power to envelope the weaker vampire, not to punish, but to reward and soothe. Damian swayed with pleasure, a surprised look on his face as his gaze remained locked on Jean-Claude’s.

 

“I wish the truth from your lips, Damian. What you truly want and believe, not a tale spun from what your apprehension thinks I want to hear,” he explained. “You are not a master vampire, Damian, and never will be one. It is your fate that you will always be bound to one stronger than you to survive, bound by obedience and servitude as payment for life and shelter.”

 

The older vampire did not argue; it was the simple truth of his life. Jean-Claude went on, “I am no longer your master, no longer the one who makes your heart beat. I did not intend for it to happen, but it is now Ma Petite’s power that animates you. Nevertheless, I am still the Master of the City, and your welfare is my concern, regardless of how benevolent a mistress I believe Anita to be.”

 

He went on, regarding Damian intently. “I knew you could not read,” he said, “but it did not interfere with your duties at Danse Macabre and you seemed to enjoy the attention there, even more so after you’re recent, ah, improvements? You nearly caused a riot, I believe, upon your return.” 

 

Damian took a deep breath, and began to speak. “Truth between us then, master, if you are in the mood to permit it. I admit I enjoy the attention, but I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t revel at least a small part in the lust and attention of the crowds of women who frequent the club. But all I am night after night is a pretty dancing blood whore, one of no standing in your kiss, and no hope of rising in stature. Worse, I fall even lower in your esteem as your kiss grows.”

 

Jean-Claude was honest enough to feel a pang of guilt at Damian’s words. He had demanded the truth, and a cold truth it was to hear. He had negotiated a costly permission for the vampire to become his, but in his own way he treated him no better than Morvoren. Without a regard to the vampire’s needs, he had given Damian duties that were designed to feed his ardeur, no different than Morvoren torturing and tormenting the man to feast on his fear. Better surroundings, but still no more than a tool that was used and ignored, he thought. He frowned as he admitted this to himself; this was not the kind of Master of the City he had aspired to be. 

 

He could feel Damian’s fear rise as the kneeling vampire misinterpreted his expression. “Master, please, I am not ungrateful for what you have done for me,” Damian continued in a rush. His impossibly green eyes were locked on his own midnight blue ones, sparking with a passion and desperation to make Jean-Claude comprehend. “I have obeyed your every order, and danced faithfully for you every night at your club. But I am a man, a warrior. I fought to defend the Circus when the council invaded. And was I not of use to you and Anita in Tennessee, when the Ulfric was in need of rescuing? And not as a pretty decoration?” 

 

Damian spoke adamantly, reaching out to clutch Jean–Claude’s had as if the contact would make his master understand. “Did I not stand behind Anita when Belle made her appearance through Musette? But the only ones who see me as a man, who think me worthy of teaching and their time are Jason and Nathaniel.” Damian dropped the stronger vampire’s hand, and hung his head in defeat.

 

Jean-Claude cupped Damian’s cheek with his palm, and poured his power into him until the man’s eyes rolled back into his head and he shivered with pleasure. “Be calm, Damian. I have already said I am not angry and that it was honesty I sought. I have wronged you, Mon Ami, and I am man and leader enough to admit it. You are a warrior, and of worth to me in that regard. And that you seek to better yourself is something to be commended, not punished. I will support and aid you in your endeavors, and if it makes you more valuable to me in my Kiss you will be rewarded with more opportunities to advance your standing. I swear this to you, Master to Servant.” As he finished his pronouncement, he coaxed Damian to his feet and embraced him.


	8. Chapter Eight

When Jean-Claude released Damian, Jason could practically smell the tension in the office dissipate. He didn’t know if it was because the Master of the City was manipulating them with his power, or from long pent-up words being released, and he didn’t care. He just knew that everything was going to work out. 

 

Predictably, once Jean-Claude learned the truth of their secret, he immediately took charge. Give the four hundred year old vampire intrigue, and his eyes came alive with a passion second only to sex. “You have been clever, my friends, but you are not a master of intrigue as I am. I respect your wish to keep this quiet, Damian. Sometimes a man’s pride is all he has. Allow me to assist you,” he offered. The master vampire lived and breathed stealth and manipulation, skills honed at the court of Belle Morte, and Jason was ecstatic to have him scheming with them.

 

Jean-Claude quickly explained where they had gone wrong. If they wished their secret to continue to remain undiscovered, he advised, then Jason and Nathaniel needed to alter their behavior and routines. Damian less so, because he worked at Danse Macabre and not Guilty Pleasures, but the three of them had been spending time together that they had never done before. The unusual was always deemed suspicious, and was subject to idle chatter.

 

Jean-Claude and others had noticed that the two young strippers were constantly together, often disappearing immediately after their shifts ended without explanations or goodbyes. This was a poor practice for secrets and business, he explained, because both were fodder for scandal. Gossip was a time honored pastime of slaves and servants for countless centuries, and their coworkers had been speculating on the obvious relationship and what they were doing. 

 

In addition, appearing to be exclusive to one another in public, the savvy vampire advised, took away any illusion of availability and the mystique of a relationship from their fans, however impossible such a bond would be. “Always allow the ladies the fantasy of you being their lover,” he lectured. “Then you will forever be a favorite of the crowd.”

 

“Damian,” he said, turning his attention to the reason for all of this stealth. “Your new self-assured and assertive demeanor is raising more than a few eyebrows and its share of wagging tongues. It is your wish that this endeavor remain clandestine, a wish we all agree to assist you in. You must curb your new found aggressive confidence, at least until you allow the truth to be known. Do not challenge Hannah, or anyone else I have put in charge of you. Your chance will come, my friend.”

 

But Jean-Claude did not simply dispense advice; he gave them all keys to the former Incubus Dreams night club to use for their lessons. He had purchased and quickly shut down the club as a gift to Anita. He eventually intended it to house his new business venture, “Théâtre De Sang.” Jean-Claude and Asher had become enamored of Cirque de Soleil, and were constructing a night club around a more risqué vampire version of the elaborate acrobat and circus show. Jason had seen some of the new arrivals practicing and, although he knew they weren’t actually fucking on stage, it sure was the next best thing in his mind. He had no idea how his master intended to get the show by decency ordinances.

 

Jean-Claude lounged back on his sofa. “So. I have given you a valuable lesson in subterfuge, keys to a rendezvous site, and a long overdue oath to Damian. What I have not given you is a solution to the ever inquisitive Ma Petite.” Jean-Claude smiled broadly. “Anita is our nexus. She links us all. She serves as the common thread between both our triumvirates, and as such can sense all of us but you, Mon Loup. She knows little, but she is on the hunt, Mon Amis.” 

 

The three conspirators winced. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave,’ Jason thought, as he gave the keys to his vehicle to Nathaniel so that he and Damian could get home to Anita’s. 

 

Nathaniel was content as he drove the two of them home. Getting caught by Jean-Claude had cost him at least ten years off his life, but it had turned out well and now his vampire employer was a co-conspirator. 

 

Damian had fed from him as a companion, a lover, should and was not regretting doing so. Nathaniel had been afraid of that, a little; that the proud red-haired vampire would pull further away after the intimacy they shared. But it hadn’t happened, and his Tri mate was relaxed and accepting of his presence. 

 

As they walked together into the house, they heard Micah say to Anita, “Why do you always have to poke at something? Isn’t obvious happiness enough?” They both stopped talking as Damian and Nathaniel entered the room, and greeted them from their comfortable positions on the sofa.

 

Damian immediately went to Anita, laying his hands on her shoulders and kissing her cheek. She smiled fondly at him and kissed him back, and they spent a few moments caressing each other and surrendering to the overpowering need each had to touch the other. Anita may never regularly have sex with her servant, but ever since they had formed the secondary Tri she had been more understanding about his overwhelming desire for skin contact and indulged him as often as possible.

 

Nathaniel in turn properly greeted his Nimir-Raj, licking Micah’s knuckles enthusiastically. Micah smiled at the young man, and was about to ask him how his evening went when he paused, and leaned in casually to sniff him. Nat smelled of sex; but even more interesting, according to his nose, so did Damian. He arched an eyebrow in question at his pard member, then turned back to the vampire. “There’s a questionnaire on the table from the builders for you, Damian. They need to know your color preferences so they can drop off carpet and paint samples for you to choose from, and any other ideas or needs you might have for your apartment. They left an envelope to put it in; if you can fill it out now I’ll give it to them today for you.”

 

“I can do that,” Damian answered, as he retrieved the paper and went downstairs. Micah didn’t quite understand the proud tone in the man’s voice, but he shrugged it off and turned his attention to Anita.

 

“Didn’t you promise to make popcorn for our story time when Nat got home, Anita?” he asked. He wanted to talk to Nathaniel alone.

 

“Fine, but if you two get it all over the sheets again, someone is changing them before we go to sleep!” she groused as she went into the kitchen.

 

Micah pulled Nathaniel onto the couch as soon as his Nimir-Ra left the room. As Nat lay comfortably in his lap, he stroked his head soothingly and looked him directly in the eyes. “Anything I need to know here, Nathaniel?” he asked kindly.

 

“No Nimir-raj, nothing.”

 

Micah continued to stroke his hair. “But there is something going on, isn’t there, kitten? Something with Damian?” he continued to question.

 

Nathaniel sighed. “We all have secrets, and problems, and sad histories in this house, Nimir-Raj. Damian’s no different with that than the rest of us.”

 

He paused and thought a moment. “It’s like we’re all misfit toys, like in the Christmas story we read about Rudolph. Broken and unwanted, at least until we all found each other and Anita.” He sat up and looked earnestly at his wereleopard leader. “It’s nothing bad, Micah, I promise. And we’re all happier now. Isn’t that what counts?”

 

Micah gave his sad little smile, ruffled Nathaniel’s hair and said, “You would think. Go get ready for bed; Anita and I will be in shortly. Since we finished 'Treasure Island' last night, we need a new story. Go ahead and pick out a book for us to read.”

 

Nathaniel jumped up happily and headed for the bedroom. He stopped in the hallway and turned back to Micah. “Can I lend Damian ‘Treasure Island’ since we’re done?” he asked.

 

“Sure, that’s OK by me,” Micah answered. “I would have offered him access to our little library before, but I never knew he liked to read.”

 

He could hear Nathaniel’s voice fade as he walked further into the hallway. “Oh, he definitely likes to read.”

 

A moment later, and Anita returned, large bowl of popcorn in hand. “Did you find anything out, Micah?” she asked softly so her voice wouldn’t carry.

 

Micah shook his head ruefully, and reached over to tap her on the nose. “Just let it go, Sherlock. I think this is one mystery you should leave alone. You already said you don’t feel any danger, and they do have the right to some privacy.”

 

Anita looked unconvinced. Her protective instincts were still on alert. “But what if something bad happens, Micah, and I didn’t prevent it?”

 

He put his arm around the small of her back and guided her to their bedroom. “So tell me, when ISN’T something bad happening around here? You have to let the kids grow up sometime,” he teased, then ducked her slap and ran for their room.


	9. Chapter Nine

If Jason had heard Micah’s comments that night, he could have told the Nimir-Raj just how prophetic his words were. Of course something bad was happening, and once again it was happening to him. He sometimes wondered what the hell he did so terribly wrong as a child that the fates felt the need to make him the one who always ended up hurt.

 

The only enjoyment he was having at the moment was watching the Human’s First and HAV assholes that had put him in his current bleeding state get loaded into ambulances for transportation to area hospitals. 

 

Jason was propped up against an ambulance in the parking lot of the soon to be Theatre de Sang, having the bullet hole in his thigh tended to by a very tough female paramedic. A shifted Nathaniel had him cradled in his arms, and was alternating between licking him like a comforting mother cat, and snarling at anyone who tried to get near them.

 

Which was why Jason thought Paramedic Patricia Dougherty was one tough lady. After the third time Nat had hissed at her for making Jason wince and say “ouch”, she had taken the water bottle she had been using to flush his wound and squirted the black wereleopard square in the face, tartly telling him that she could stop right now if he wanted, and let the werewolf bleed all over the parking lot. 

 

Even though it hurt, Jason burst out laughing at the shocked look on Nathaniel’s kitty cat face, and the furious way he tried to rub the offending water off on Jason’s shirt. Still chuckling, he reached up and stroked Nat’s ears to settle him down, and looked around the mayhem surrounding them. They had picked on the wrong shifter this time, he thought as he grinned to himself. He had friends in high places.

 

Off to his right, Jean-Claude was furiously berating the local detective in charge for his attitude that the three of them had been trespassing. He and Asher had dropped in on the party no more than ten minutes after the authorities had arrived. Literally. Vampires being big believers in the “quickest route between two points is a straight line” theory, they had arrived by the most expedient means available to them, flying. They were lucky they weren’t the ones being tended by a paramedic for a gunshot wound.

 

Jason watched the officer wince as his master put every ounce of scorn and derision he had in his voice as he said, “Trespassing? And do you normally arrest trespassers who have keys, Monsieur? And who are employed by the owner of the establishment they were supposedly trespassing on? I thought I had a better grasp of the English language; perhaps you can explain to me the definition of the word trespassing you are using?”

 

Right behind the Master of the City, showing tacit support by his position, was Sergeant Zerbrowski of RPIT. When he had been attacked, Damian and Nathanial had both sent out metaphysical 911 calls for help to Anita, who had immediately dispatched Zerbrowski and Jean-Claude to the rescue. RPIT had been the first to arrive, local police and ambulances in tow. The Sergeant had immediately taken charge of the situation, arresting their HAV assailants and keeping control of the local cops. Jason winced as he remembered the lecture he, Nat and Damian had gotten from the man. Thank God his attention was elsewhere. He was having a bad enough day without having his ears blistered a second time by him.

 

Off to his left, Anita and Damian were having a long overdue heart to heart. Anita had been the furthest away, and the last to arrive. When she saw the human carnage, and Jason bleeding on the ground, she had hugged herself and said, “God, I hate being right all the time,” and then just stared at them despondently. Damian had gone to her immediately, enveloping her in his arms and rubbing her back comfortingly. Since it was his story to tell, it had to be him that took her aside to explain.

 

Micah and Merle had come with Anita, but were wisely staying back and letting the situation play out without them. Things were under control, but they were there for moral support or muscle, whichever was needed.

 

The only ones, Jason mused, who hadn’t joined the party were Richard and the pack. It was a good thing, too; adding his angst to the mix was only going to make things more difficult. 

 

Jason started out of his reverie when he heard a car coming hard up the gravel. He looked up to see Richard’s Jeep skid to a halt next to the police cars.

 

Great, his Ulfric had arrived, and was heading straight for him with Jamil trailing behind. His evening was now complete. And everything had started out so promising.


	10. Chapter Ten

He had planned on broaching the subject of the GED test and getting a High School Diploma with Damian that night. It wasn’t like he was teaching him anything anymore. The vampire could read and write fluently now, and the three of them were meeting more out of the enjoyment of each others company than as a learning experience. It was time to take the next step.

 

They had taken over the manager’s office of the club to use as their meeting place, and he and Nathaniel were comfortably sprawled out listening to Damian read aloud. It gave Jason as sense of accomplishment to hear the enthusiasm his pupil was injecting into their latest book. Jean-Claude had given Damian a beautiful, leather bound edition of Moby Dick to use in his studies, and the vampire was enthralled with the classic, his eyes animated as related the story to the two of them. They had spent weeks reading this latest lesson, and had finally reached the epic final confrontation of Ahab and the white whale.

 

Damian was flawless as he read, “As if to strike a quick terror into them, by this time being the first assailant himself, Moby Dick had turned, and was now coming for the three crews. Ahab's boat was central; and cheering his men, he told them he would take the whale head-and-head”, when Nathaniel, wide eyed and completely engrossed in the story, interrupted him.

 

“Did you ever see a whale, Damian? When you were a sailing as a Viking?”

 

Jason stilled. Even though the three of them had become close companions, the red haired vampire was still a private person when it came to his past. He had previously volunteered stories of his marauding days, but in deference to his feelings they had studiously avoided asking him question directly. Neither one of them wanted to hurt the vampire by dredging up painful memories. He waited for Damian’s reaction.

 

“No, Nathaniel, I never saw one. Porpoises, yes, but no white whale,” he answered with a grin. “Delphin were welcome sights. To have them swimming at the bow of your ship was always a sign of good luck.”

 

Jason let out the breath he had been holding. He should have known it would be alright. Ever since the night he had fed from Nathaniel in that seedy hotel room, Damian had completely dropped his shields around the young wereleopard, and allowed him to get close physically, metaphysically, and emotionally. It seemed as though from that point forward Nathaniel could do no wrong in his eyes.

 

“Keep reading, Damian,” Nathaniel urged. He rested his chin on his knees, and his lavender eyes were shining in anticipation. “I can’t wait to hear if Ahab or Moby Dick wins.” 

 

That comment took Jason by surprise. Every teenager had to read Moby Dick, whether they liked it or not. “You don’t know what happens next?” Jason asked incredulously. “How’d you get out of reading it in High School? It’s a standard American Literature book!”

 

Nathaniel answered him absently, “I ran away from my last foster home at fifteen, so I never finished high school,” before turning back to Damian and urging, “go on, Damian, please?”

 

Jason was instantly contrite. Here he was worrying if Damian had been hurt by Nat bringing up the past, and he blithely did the same thing to his leopard lover. He forgot sometimes that Nathaniel didn’t have the same kind of a childhood he did. He didn’t have parents who loved him, didn’t go to school, didn’t do all of the fun things kids did like Christmas, and games, and school dances. It was why reading with his new families was precious to him. What the hell, he had wanted to try to teach Damian enough to pass the GED test. Why not one more student? All he had to do was get them to say yes.

 

“Hold up a second, Damian.” Jason instructed. “I want to discuss something with you, and this is a perfect opportunity for me to bring this up. I want you to let me try to teach you enough school subjects to pass the GED test and get a High School diploma. You’ve succeeded, Damian. You can read and write. I can’t believe how quickly you learned, but you are one smart man and it’s a shame to stop there. Why not challenge yourself more? Go further with your education? Boldly go where no vampire has gone before?” Ok, the last was a bit over the top, but let his mouth run on for any length of time and it was inevitable that a bit of his smart ass nature would seep in.

 

He paused and tried to gage Damian’s reaction. He didn’t look convinced, so he grinned and added, “Hell, I think Jean-Claude would even spring for the tuition if you wanted to go to college. Night School, of course,” he said with a laugh.

 

Forehead furrowed in confusion, Damian replied, “Why, Jason? You have done enough, and I will always be grateful for your efforts. I am proud of what I’ve accomplished, and proud to have the two of you as friends. I just don’t see the point in getting a child’s diploma.” 

 

“Not just you, Damian, but Nathaniel too. I didn’t know you never graduated high school, Nat, and you should. I can help you both pass the test,” Jason argued.

 

Now it was Nat’s turn to protest. “I was never smart enough for school, Jason! I don’t need my diploma to strip or work at the clubs.”

 

That just made the werewolf mad. Nat wasn’t stupid by any stretch, and he wasn’t going to let him get away with that. Jason stood and looked down at him, and threw all the command he had in his voice. “Damn it, Nathaniel, don’t ever let me hear you say that again. You may not have the confidence, or it may have never occurred to you to try, I’ll give you that, but don’t you dare try to convince me you don’t have the brains.”

 

“What’s wrong with challenging yourselves? If you both want to do more with your lives, you need to learn new skills. Damian, there’s so much out there you don’t know, and just reading isn’t going to teach you. Nat, you can’t strip forever. You need to go to the next step. But don’t do it just for a better job; do it for yourself.” He stopped and stared at the two of them, earnestly hoping they would take the next step.

 

“Look, I have an instruction book and the minimum requirements in the car. What’s the harm in looking at them? Just let me go grab them and we’ll talk about it.”

 

He wheeled around quickly before either one of them could argue further, and jogged out of the building to his car.

 

Strait into an ambush.

 

In hindsight, he could forgive himself for not sensing them first. There was no reason to suspect danger in the parking lot of a closed nightclub. And it wouldn’t have killed Jean-Claude to tell them he was having difficulties with the neighbors. How else was he to know that the locals were adamantly opposed to a swank vampire dinner theater opening up in their neighborhood? Apparently a strip club that also featured prostitution was infinitely more acceptable than an undead establishment. Go figure. 

 

And he was distracted at the time, trying to come up with enough compelling arguments to convince his friends to agree to the test. When he realized he was in trouble, it was too late for him to do anything about it. About a dozen or so HAV and Human’s First extremists were waiting outside the club for them, armed with baseball bats and crowbars. It seemed the plan had been to beat the crap out of them, but he must have startled one of the fuckers when he came barreling out the front door, because the asshole panicked and shot him immediately. Thank god the guy wasn’t a gun enthusiast. He pulled the trigger by accident before he had brought it fully into position, and the silver bullet the gun was loaded with went through the meat of his thigh instead of a vital organ. That was little consolation to him, though, as he screamed in agony at the burning pain.

 

At the sound of the gunshot and Jason’s anguished cry, Damian came screaming out of the club in full fury, his face losing its humanity and his cat eyes bleeding a solid green as he came to Jason’s defense. He was a red streak, grabbing and flinging Jason’s shooter against the wall of the club with a viciousness that made the werewolf wince. He had just enough time to shout “Damian, don’t kill them!” when a familiar black shape joined the fray. 

 

Nathaniel’s grey eyes were sparking with anger, his teeth bared and stiletto claws fully extended and prepared to maim. Jason had never seen his lover in a killing mode such as this. He knew he had to stop him before someone bled, before someone died. He could hear sirens approaching in the distance. The police rarely believed preternaturals; if they littered corpses around them they were going to have a very hard time saying it was self defense. Damian he was able to get through to; the vampire was in control and gleefully incapacitating their assailants. Nat wasn’t an experienced fighter, and was defending his downed lover. Jason had to put every ounce of dominance in his voice when he yelled “Nat, no! Stay here and keep them off me!” to ensure that the wereleopard would obey.

 

Nathaniel stopped dead at the tone in Jason’s voice, and looked back at him lying bleeding on the ground. He was fighting his instincts, the beast within him that was telling him to hunt and kill the intruders. But love conquered instinct, and with a shudder and a final hiss at the battle before him, Nat obeyed Jason and returned to crouch down in front of him, teeth bared and hands flexed, ready to defend him against anyone stupid enough to come close.

 

Besides, his help wasn’t needed. It was a rout. A dozen aging, suburban, overweight militants didn’t stand much of a chance against a thousand year old Viking warrior with a newly awakened bad ass attitude. In short order their assailants were all unconscious and bleeding, but alive. Jason refrained from changing, and healing himself. Two shifters in were form, and a bloodied vampire standing over a dozen incapacitated humans. Yeah, the cops would believe they were the victims. He would stay human and bleeding, thank you.


	11. Chapter Eleven

It wasn’t long before Jason sighted the approaching the police cars. There wasn’t much time to prepare. Nathaniel was still crouched by his feet, and listening to him. He had to get Damian by his side and less threatening looking.

 

“Damian,” he called quietly. The vampire was thinned out, non-human, and still in attack mode. In control, but aggressive and intimidating. He needed to get him settled down quickly, before the police arrived and jumped to the wrong conclusions. 

 

The vampire hadn’t heard him, or just chose not to acknowledge his call, and worse, his attention was now focused on the approaching squad cars. OK, so quiet wasn’t working. Time to get loud. “Damn it, Damian, LOOK AT ME!” he shouted.

 

Damian whirled around towards him, his red hair crackling around his head, and his eyes a solid green. His pale face was feral looking, and a wicked grin was plastered across it. He had enjoyed the brief battle, but unfortunately he looked like a killer, not a victim. Jason had to work fast.

 

“You have to swallow the power back, Damian. If the police see you like that they are going to shoot first and not even bother about asking questions later. Come on, man, ease down. It’s over; there’s nobody here left standing who’s a threat to us,” he cajoled in as calm a voice he could manage.

 

Damian turned away from him, and back towards the approaching vehicles. “They will not harm you or Nathaniel?” he questioned. Jason could practically smell the power that was dancing around the vampire as he stood waiting for the approaching vehicles, arms slightly outstretched, hair and clothing moving with the preternatural wind that circled him. Jason had never seen Damian in full vampire glory before, and it was a sight. The vampire had always taken a low profile, and it was easy to forget that even though he was not a Master, he was over a thousand years old. You gained something in that many centuries, and Damian had grown even stronger from the Tri. But it wasn’t only raw power. He had also gained back his confidence and a willingness to exert himself. 

 

But Jason had to bring him down, for all their sakes. “No, they aren’t going to hurt us. But you have to do what I say, Damian. I need you to push the power back. I need you human looking, and kneeling next to Nathaniel when they get here. Do you understand me? Damian, there isn’t much time. I need you here, and inoffensive, NOW.” Jason was getting desperate. If the man didn’t obey him, he had no doubt that the cops were going to shoot him out of hand as soon as they left their vehicles.

 

He watched the vampire look back at him, then close his eyes. Damian took a deep breath, shuddered, and then slowly let it out. Jason could see the humanity seep back into his features, and when he opened his eyes they were a normal, human looking color, and he had his usual calm demeanor. He quickly went to Jason’s side, and crouched down, smiling. “I take it you doubt they are believers in equal justice for all?” he murmured quietly, watching the vehicles screech to a halt a scant hundred yards away.

 

“Nice control. And yes, I believe that the authorities strive for equal rights for preternaturals, just like I believe in Santa Clause and the tooth fairy. Let me do the talking; if you open your mouth they may think your trying to use your powers. Just cooperate, and do exactly as they say, until our kind of help gets here,” Jason answered.

 

Nathaniel gave a little cat cough laugh at his feet, and turned wide grey eyes in his direction. “You mean there’s no SANTA?” he asked in a mock plaintive voice.

 

Jason gave him a gentle cuff to the head. “You keep your mouth shut too, kitten. Furry and submissive they might be able to handle. Furry and talking like a man will freak them out.” The police were advancing on them rapidly, their guns drawn. “Ok, guys, its show time,” Jason announced grimly.

 

The first policeman to arrive had his gun drawn, and screamed at them, “Eyes DOWN, and get your hands behind your heads!” Someone had taught him basic vampire facts at his precinct. He obviously knew of a vampire’s power to roll a human’s mind, and to avoid looking one directly in the eyes. It didn’t work that way with shifters, but Jason wasn’t about to correct the man’s facts. He kept his eyes down and quickly laced his fingers on his head. He risked a quick peek at his companions, and relaxed a little when he saw they were obeying the cop’s instructions.

 

He was mentally preparing for the worst, when he heard a familiar voice say, “Damn it, Marcal, tell your men to stand down before they hurt someone! Great detective work you’ve got going here; just who the hell do you think is the victim? The one with the gunshot wound, or the ones with the blunt weapons and the firearms?”

 

Jason looked up. It was Sergeant Zerbrowski of RPIT, and his ugly mug and rumpled clothes were a welcome sight. He happily yelled, “Sarge! Damn good to see you, man! Do you think you can have them do something about the bullet hole in my leg? I’m bleeding like the proverbial stuck pig here!” 

 

Zerbrowski looked down at the three of them, and just shook his head in exasperation. “This isn’t the time to be a smartass, fur ball. Try not to be so witty and let me handle this.”

 

A slightly greying older cop, obviously Detective Marcal, came striding forward to stand toe to toe with Zerbrowski. “Who do I think the victims are? The ones that are always the victims; our kind. The humans, not the monsters sitting over there. And they’re the ones who I’m going to arrest,” he snarled in the sergeants face.

 

“Then it’s a damn good thing you don’t have jurisdiction here. This involves preternaturals, so it makes it my sandbox, not yours. So keep your damn mouth shut, secure the area, make sure the ones on the ground are really unconscious and disarmed, and get the paramedics up here. In other words, start doing something useful instead of standing around with your fly open and your prejudices hanging out.”

 

Jason could practically smell the testosterone leaking from the two of them. Humans may not like it, but they had a lot in more in common with shifters then they cared to admit. Case in point, this little stand off. He knew an Alpha clash when he saw one.

 

Marcal broke first. He was a local, and he knew he didn’t have a legal leg to stand on. Frustrated and angry, he turned to his men and growled, “You heard the man. Do what he said!”, then stomped away to get the paramedics.

 

Jason smiled as he watched the Marcal retreat. Score another one for the good guys tonight.

 

Zerbrowski turned his attention back to the three of them. “You can take your hands off your heads now.”

 

“Thanks, Sarge, I was afraid…” Jason began to say, only to trail off at Zerbrowski’s expression. It was cold, unfriendly, and very unlike the man. Did he really think they had been at fault here?

 

The Sergeant ran his hand through his curly hair, then pushed his glasses up, like he was trying to decide what to say. He straitened, and his brown eyes took on a hardened look. He crossed his arms, took a deep breath and started to speak in a clipped, angry tone. 

 

“I’m going to tell you three a little story. I’m at RPIT headquarter, when Anita calls and orders me and RPIT out here like a Marine Colonel telling his boys to take a hill. So I do, because she’s got friends here who are hurt and in trouble. She tells me it’s you three, and I’m not the least surprised. Would you like to know why?”

 

Shit. He’d just come to their rescue, but the man was seriously infuriated with them, and Jason didn’t know why. As far as he knew, they had done nothing to piss the Sergeant off. He looked at him with innocent eyes, hoping to get out of the tongue lashing he knew was coming. Wishful thinking.

 

“You know, Schuyler, I used to have a single file I called “Weird Vampire Shit”. But then you and your ‘lunarly challenged’ pals came along, and as I started to learn more about you furries, and get involved with Micah’s coalition, I had to update it to a file just called “Weird Shit”. He smiled sarcastically. “Weird Vampire and Lycanthrope Shit” just wouldn’t fit on the tab.”

 

“I tend to slide over a lot of the beat cop’s reports, because I can’t deal with every little oddity you and your buddies come up with. But do you want to know the one phrase that’s designed to perk my ears up? It’s ‘Master of the City’. Especially when said ‘Master’ is spotted leaving a Tenderloin dive with two known shifters and a copper top vampire. From the descriptions, I knew it had to be you three, and I began to think that maybe you’d gone into hooking or something. Maybe Fang face had new jobs for you.”

 

Nathaniel started to protest, but one look from Zerbrowski’s pinched eyes and the words dried up in his throat. This wasn’t just a lecture. It was something more, something heartfelt and disappointed. And Jason was completely mystified as to where the man was heading with this. And from the looks on Damian and Nathaniel’s face, they were as puzzled as he was.

 

“I knew it would kill Anita if you guys were whoring. I knew it because of the offhand proud comments she’s made about you. How you were going back to college, Schuyler. How the long haired leopard stripper had gotten his license, and had cleaned up his act. So I had the local cops look into it, and I learned enough to know that wasn’t what was going on. But it didn’t solve a problem I’d been noticing. A problem with Anita.”

 

The paramedic was hovering behind him, and Zerbrowski motioned her forward to start working on Jason.

 

“Let me tell you something about Anita. I may not be Oprah Winfrey touchy feely, but I’m not blind. I consider her a friend, and respect her as a colleague, but I’ve always felt bad for her. Anita’s always been on the outside looking in. It ain’t easy being an Animator. Hell, even her religion thought she was evil. But then she changed. She hooked up with you guys, you so called monsters, and she belonged, she was accepted, and she was the fucking happiest she’s ever been.”

 

The woman applied a quick compress on Jason’s leg to stop the bleeding, and judiciously retreated to give them some privacy. Cleaning and dressing the wound could wait a few minutes until they were done.

 

Jason was stunned. That was the most he’d ever heard Zerbrowski say at one time, but nothing the man had said to him so far was a revelation. He knew he hadn’t made his point yet, and he was beginning to dread what was coming next. 

 

Zerbrowski voice hardened with resolve. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but you three have been up to something behind Anita’s back. Maybe not anything illegal, but something that you don’t want her involved in. And by keeping her out, you pushed her back out again. You made her an outsider again. And I know this because I’ve overheard her phone calls trying to figure out if you three were in trouble. Katie’s been working on me; I know hurt when I hear it.”

 

There was a commotion off to their right, shouts of “Above you!” and “Incoming!”, and the sound of guns being unholstered. Jean-Claude and Asher had arrived from the air in full glory, and were causing untold panic and consternation with the local gendarmes.

 

Zerbrowski cursed, and shouted, “Hold your fire! That’s the God damned Master of the City, and he owns this place! These are his employees! Merlioni, settle them down for Christ’s sake; I’ll be right there!”

 

He whirled back to the previous objects of his attention. “I don’t have time for this with you three idiots, so I’ll keep it simple. It’s taken months for you to fuck things up like this, but I’m only giving you tonight to fix this. You talk to Anita when she gets here and make this right, or so help me I will make your lives a living hell.” He turned and jogged back to acknowledge Jean-Claude’s presence and control the angry, milling cops.

 

Jason felt sick. He looked at Nathaniel’s downcast eyes, and Damian’s stunned expression and knew he wasn’t the only one.

 

“I didn’t know, didn’t mean for this to hurt her,” Damian whispered.

 

“You two are part of her Triumvirate; didn’t you feel anything?” Jason asked. Damian reacted as if he’d been slapped. Damn it, he wasn’t trying to spread blame. He just didn’t understand how they could have been so blind.

 

Nathaniel answered before Damian could open his mouth. “She’s the Alpha, the master. Anita’s a lot stronger than we are. If she didn’t want us to know, she could shield from us and we wouldn’t suspect anything. We didn’t know, Jason. Do you think we would know and not do anything?” he growled, his voice thick and hoarse with his beast.

 

Damian put a comforting arm around the distraught wereleopard. “This is my fault. It was I who insisted this be kept a secret. I will talk to her when she arrives, and explain. This isn’t anything either one of you should have to fix,” he said quietly as he ran a soothing hand up and down Nat’s chest.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Jason wished he could swallow his words back. 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

Two words were never spoken with more sincerity or heartfelt remorse. He knew he owed Damian and Nathaniel the apology, and more for his comment. 

 

“I didn’t mean that like it came out. I swear I wasn’t accusing the two of you of anything. I would never think that you would knowingly hurt Anita, any more than I meant to hurt you.”

 

Damian gave him a sad little moue, and with a negative shake of his head replied, “There’s no need Jason. I know your heart. Just as I know that I will ‘fix this’, as the Sergeant said, when Anita arrives. I will explain everything to her.”

 

Nathaniel was more demonstrative with his sentiments. He disengaged from Damian, and crawled over to Jason, sniffing his wound and moving behind him to spoon him. Nat embraced his werewolf friend, and began to lick the sweat from the back of his neck and throat. “Shhh, it’s OK,” he purred, a deep throated bass rumble that was his tone in shifter form. “Just forget it, you’re hurt enough. I’m going to keep you safe now.”

 

Jason gave a sigh of relief, and settled himself more comfortably in Nathaniel’s arms. He hadn’t thought he had damaged the relationship the three of them had built over the months, but he needed to have their forgiveness. Damn his mouth sometimes; it wasn’t always witty, smart ass comments that came tripping out. He really needed a seven second delay so his brain could intercept some of his statements.

 

He looked up to see Asher conversing with the female paramedic who had started to work on him. The golden haired vampire still hid the scarred half of his face with his hair when in public, but at least he was more willing to interact with the community at large. The Paramedic was really very knowledgeable about preternaturals, and was well trained enough to interact with them professionally. She hadn’t balked about working on him, even knowing his shifter status, and she was not averse to talking to a vampire. She was just careful to keep her eyes averted, and had considerately tucked under her collar that had her silver cross pin attached. They had a brief conversation, the two of them quickly made their way over.

 

Jason grinned suddenly at the approaching vampire. Asher was generally as fastidious in his dress as his master was, but his current ensemble was a little disheveled. Black linen pants, no footwear, and his sky blue shirt was unbuttoned and haphazardly shoved into his slacks. He took a quick look over at Jean-Claude and saw that he was similarly attired – no shoes, and his blood red shirt was flapping loosely in the breeze. It warmed him inside that they had wasted no time in coming to his rescue, but just what were the two of them up to before they received Anita’s emergency mental call?

 

His smirk morphed into a full laugh at Jean-Claude’s limpid look and derisive tone he scolded Marcal with a dismissive shake of his hand. “Trespassing? And do you normally arrest trespassers who have keys….” 

 

He continued to eavesdrop with half an ear as Asher arrived with the paramedic. 

 

“Jason, Miss Dougherty will attend to you now. Jean-Claude will be over as soon as he has, ah, ‘sorted’ the situation to his satisfaction.” Asher casually surveyed the battlefield, and then looked over at Damian. “Your doing, Mon Ami?”

 

Damian’s demeanor instantly brightened, and he smiled broadly as he nodded affirmatively at the more powerful vampire. Once a Viking, always a Viking, Jason thought, and apparently there’s nothing like the memory of a good ass kicking to lift a man’s spirits.

 

Asher went over and patted the red haired vampire’s shoulder appreciatively. “Tre bon, Damian, Tre bon. No one is dead or seriously hurt, and you defended your friends and your master’s property while showing admirable restraint and bravery. From what I am told they were armed with silver weapons and holy water, Mon Ami.” Asher winced. “Were you less skilled it may have gone badly for you all.”

 

Paramedic Dougherty’s head snapped up at the silver comment. “Silver bullets? Damn, no wonder he’s not healing this on his own. Kind of proves the whole vigilante thing too, doesn’t it? Regular folk don’t walk around with guns loaded with silver,” she scoffed as she went back to cleaning Jason’s wound.

 

Marcal’s raised voice drew Jason’s attention back to the real action. He looked back over at Zerbrowski and Jean-Claude, who were having an animated conversation with the almost purple faced policeman. Well, it was at least animated on the part of the detective. The Sergeant had already won his pissing contest with the man, and was just standing there scowling at him and letting Jean-Claude control the show. And there simply wasn’t any contest to be had with the Master of the City. The master vampire’s midnight blue eyes had a dangerous glint to them, belying the half lidded, bored, superior expression on his face. It was the same fake disinterested look a cat gives a mouse it’s trying to lull into a false sense of security, just before the kill.

 

The Detective Marcal jerked his chin angrily towards Jason, Nathanial and Damian. He made a disgusted noise as he watched Nat’s careful ministrations to his lover. 

 

“Based on what I’ve seen so far, I could arrest the red haired vampire for assault. He’s the only one standing and I have a dozen injured people heading to area hospitals right now,” he spat at Jean-Claude. “I’d be cheered for it. The people of my precinct don’t want their kind here.”

 

Disrespect and bigotry, both directed at the Master of the City. Huge mistake. Jason snickered gleefully. This was going to be good. Even Zerbrowski was rolling his eyes at the man’s stupidity.

 

Jean-Claude’s eyes darkened even further, and his voice took on a dangerous, silky smooth tone. “You are insolent, Monsieur. My people were waylaid by assailants with silver weapons. And would you care to elaborate on what ‘kind’ you are referring to? The vampire kind? The shifter kind? Or a more basic hatred, the kind that recoils in horror at the sight of two men in love?” He stopped and pulled out his cell phone. “Perhaps I am as confused about the definition of ‘civil liberty’ as I am about ‘trespassing’. No matter; I will simply call my lawyer to whom I pay an extravagant monthly retainer fee to and ask him to clarify. One moment, cie vous plait.”

 

He waited patiently as the phone rang. “Hello? Jean-Claude.” He gave a rich, warm laugh into the phone. “Oui, I am having ‘difficulties’ as you so quaintly put it. I am at Theatre de Sang, with one wounded employee, one shifted employee, a vampire employee accused of assault and the local police stating that they do not want our kind here.” He paused, listening to the response. “Oui, the officer in charge is right here. One moment.

 

He held the phone out to the detective. “He wishes to speak to you, Monsieur.”

 

Marcal snatched the phone from Jean-Claude’s hand, and snarled “Detective Marcal.” It was the last belligerent word he spoke. The color quickly drained from his face, starting at a sickly white and slowly going to the dusky green of a man who wants to be sick.

 

“No, Sir, I don’t think it’s necessary for you to call the Mayor’s office, or the ACLU, about this. Yes, Sir, you have my assurance that I and my officers will make sure a hate crime like this does not reoccur.”

 

He hung up the phone and handed it back to Jean-Claude, then turned and began to walk away. 

 

“Detective Marcal,” Jean-Claude called, practically purring with satisfaction at the man’s cowed demeanor and barely concealed rage. Marcal paused, but did not turn around. “I will be sure to send you some tickets to the opening night of Theater de Sang for your expected vigilance in protecting my employees and establishment. You will enjoy the inaugural show. Evariste, my thespian leader, has created an ingenuous spectacle of biblical proportions. You will be awed by the legend he weaves.”

 

Jason watched as the Detective clenched his hands into fists, then strode away without acknowledging the vampire's gracious offer. 

 

“Go Jean-Claude,” he murmured to himself, then heard Asher give a Gallic snort of disdain behind him.

 

“He is lucky Jean-Claude contented himself with castrating the man figuratively. He was beside himself when Anita called out that you three were in danger, and that you were injured, little wolf. Make no mistake, he wished to make someone bleed in retribution tonight.” Asher looked carefully at the three of them, and then nodded in the direction of the roadway leading to the club. “And he was not alone in that sentiment. Anita has arrived.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Asher eyed the approaching vehicle a moment, and then looked back at Jason. “Jean-Claude has not told me what the three of you have been doing, and I know he has told Anita nothing as well. It was your affair, and if the Master of the City did not feel I needed to know the facts of the situation, then it was of no importance to me. Anita, however, feels otherwise.” His gaze took in all of them as he said, “Remember she loves you all implicitly, and means well. But you have a right to your own lives.” 

 

It was evident Jean-Claude had been keeping Anita appraised of the situation, because her entrance was marginally more sedate than his and Asher’s had been. She wasn’t any less furious, Jason could see, but at least she exited her vehicle unarmed. Knowing her nature, he had expected her to immediately go to Jean-Claude and take control, to at least smack someone around to relieve her built up stress, but instead, Anita stalked directly towards the three of them.

 

Asher had just enough time before Anita arrived to murmur, “Bon chance, Mon Ami’s”. The scarred vampire gave Damian a final companionable slap on the back and melted softly away. Jason watched her killing expression soften as she surveyed the debris of Damian’s battle, then turn to sadness as she watched Jason being tended to by the paramedic. The only break in her sorrowful look was a wisp of a smile that passed quickly over her face as she gazed at Nathanial’s careful ministrations to his lover.

 

In a flash of insight, Jason could tell she wanted to interfere, wanted to DO something, but somehow felt unsure of her welcome. She drew comfort and control from hugging her arms around herself, and looked at the three of them despondently. “God, I hate being right all the time,” Jason heard her say sadly. As much as he hated the tongue lashing they had gotten from Zerbrowski, he was intensely grateful to the man for cluing them in on Anita’s feelings of ostracism. Her actions made sense now, and at least they wouldn’t wound her further. This pain could be soothed.

 

Damian got up swiftly, and gently made his way to her, enveloping her in an embrace and kissing her chastely on the lips, then calmly leaning his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he drew strength from his master and in turn offered his own life and strength back to her. No words were spoken; the metaphysical ties that bound them inextricably together needed to be satisfied first, before the emotional hurts could be tended to.

 

Jason noticed Paramedic Dougherty looking at Damian and Anita out of the corner of her eye as she tended to his wounded thigh. Glancing around, he noticed that everyone - Zerbrowski, Jean-Claude, Asher, even the police – were surreptitiously eyeing the exchange between the vampire and the Executioner. He gently nudged the woman tending him, saying “Hey, wounded one here. Shouldn’t your focus be all on me?” Dougherty grinned sheepishly, and apologized. 

 

“Sorry, but you could practically cut the emotions between the two of them with a knife,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’d give me the full 411 on what’s going on here? Are they lovers or something?” she asked curiously.

 

Jason knew there was no way he was going to be able to explain the “or something” that was the complicated, intermingled relationships they all shared. He took a deep breath, about to give the woman a plausible lie, when Nathanial purred out an answer.

 

“Not lovers, not like you’re thinking. But they share a bond, and they hurt one another, and they need to work that out. It’s just a shame they have to do it with an audience,” Nathaniel said. 

 

Patricia ducked her head in embarrassment. “Now I really am sorry. I had no right to be prying and staring like that. You people aren’t some cable show here for my entertainment. I feel like an absolute heel; please accept my apology and I will mind my own business from now on.”

 

Nathaniel gave her a feline grin, showing that he didn’t hold his earlier soaking against her, and replied, “It’s OK, we’re kind of used to the stares. We all work as either strippers or dancers in Jean-Claude’s clubs.” He hugged himself snugly against Jason’s back, and rested his chin comfortably on Jason’s shoulder. “I feel like I should go over there, but I don’t know which one to go to – Anita or Damian.”

 

“Neither of them, kitten,” Jason whispered as he in turn relaxed his head back on Nat’s shoulder and watched the scene unfold before him. “Damian’s right; this is something he needs to work out with Anita.”

 

Quicker than Anita wished, Damian disengaged from their embrace, his hands gripping her clothed arms, careful to avoid skin contact. He did not want her reactions to be influenced or dulled by the calm he imparted on her. He needed to talk to her as an individual, not as a servant or an extension of her power. He knew an apology was necessary for the hurt he had inadvertently caused her, but he would not, could not, undo all of the progress he had made in the past months relearning independence, and rediscovering a personality and confidence that he had thought beaten out of him forever. 

 

He looked into her eyes, and said simply, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

 

Anita searched his eyes as she gathered her thoughts. Now that her fear for their safety was quelled, tendrils of anger began to heat around her heart. “Damn it, Damian, I knew something like this was going to happen. What have you three been keeping from me? What have you been up to that caused all this? I could have ordered you to tell me, but I refrained, because I didn’t want to be high handed like that with you. With any of you. But the Greek mythology Cassandra that I am, no one would believe me that this was going to happen. Yet here we are, surrounded by RPIT and the police, and ambulances, and Jason hurt, and I just know this could have been prevented if I had just been involved.” She smacked his chest in frustration, knowing it would have little effect on the vampire but needing the physical action to help bleed off her pent up emotions.

 

**Anita!** Jean-Claude’s voice chided through the marks. No Ma Petite; he obviously had a point to make and wished to get her attention. **Remember my words to you when you first began to hound me incessantly with what my Pomme and your Tri-mates were doing. Sometimes a man’s pride is all he has left to him.**

 

Damian pulled her into his chest in a close embrace, and soothingly rubbed her back. He dropped his shields completely, and allowed himself to be open and vulnerable to her scrutiny, to show her in every way he could that she was not being made an outsider, not being pushed away.

 

“And what exactly do you think we have been ‘up to’ as you said, that incited this ambush?” he sighed against her. “God’s truth, the only thing that has been going on is that Jason and Nathaniel have been teaching me to read and write. Other than using this site as a place to conduct the lessons, we did nothing to provoke such an attack.”

 

Mouth agape as she realized the truth of his words, Anita pulled back in surprise from Damian’s embrace. “That’s what you three have been hiding from me? The fact that you were illiterate and they’ve been teaching you how to read? Why would you feel you had to keep that from me? I would have helped! I may not have been able to teach you myself, but I would have paid for tutors or books, or something. I would have….”

 

Damian smiled at her sardonically as he interrupted her tirade. “Taken charge? Found out that I was even more worthless to you than I already felt?” He held a hand up to forestall her protest. “I will not argue that point with you, my master. Right or wrong, I felt a burden to you, an obligation that was forced upon you through a metaphysical quirk of fate. What little pride I had left could not bear to have you know I was incapable of doing what almost any elementary school child in this country could accomplish. ”

 

“That’s insane, Damian. I never would have belittled you or thought any less of you. You’re mine; to protect and take care of. I may not have done right by you in the past, but that was my fears, not your imagined shortcomings.”

 

He tenderly caressed her cheek, and laughed softly. “As I have been told time and again by a very good werewolf friend of mine, I have been harboring deep seeded self-esteem issues for too many centuries. I suspect that if I could ever figure out how to get into that computer of his, I would find that Jason has used me as the subject of many a psychology paper he has written these past few months. ”

 

Anita folded her arms across her chest, and stepped back from her vampire servant. “It hurt me Damian, more than I normally care to admit or let on. You and Nathanial were keeping me out, and it seemed as though everyone knew what was going on, except me.” 

 

Damian winced at the dejected tone of her voice, and almost broke and begged her forgiveness. He steeled his resolve. 

 

“Only Jean-Claude knew; no others. Anita, it became more than just the act of learning to read. It was as if I regained a life of my own. In Nathanial and Jason, I once again had true friends, for the first time since Perrin. I learned to accept and return Nathanial’s love. I have once again relearned confidence and individuality. Have you not felt the smoothness of our tri? Have you sensed any discord or unhappiness, other than your own feelings of being left out?” 

 

He searched her eyes for a glimmer of understanding. “I would walk out into sunlight rather than hurt you, and I apologize with all my heart for causing you pain, but do not ask me to apologize for my spark of independence. I am a man, and I deserve some privacy, some small life of my own.”

 

Anita held her arms out to her servant. She felt an overwhelming need to touch Damian, to reaffirm the closeness of their connection, and he promptly came to her embrace. “God, Damian, I understand. I really do, and I’m sorry. I don’t involve you in every intimate detail of my life, and you deserve the same regard.” She gave him the first genuine smile of the evening. “I just can’t get away from relationship issues with you, can I? And I thought Richard was tough.”

 

Damian breathed in the scent of her hair, and basked in the rightness he felt in their connection. Through the marks, he could feel Nathanial’s burst of happiness as well. For that moment, all pain and hurt were banished from the three of them.

 

He opened his eyes and looked up at the sound of car doors being slammed.

 

“Speaking of Richard, the Ulfric has arrived, Anita. And he seems to be heading for Jason.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Unless the wererats decided to make an appearance, there just wasn’t anyone left to join the menagerie. If it wasn’t for the presence of RPIT and Sergeant Zerbrowski, there would have been no way the police would have tolerated the constant influx of civilians at the site of a crime scene. As it was, an obviously irate Richard, with a scowling Jamil in full body guard mode stalking behind him, was raising more than a few eyebrows.

 

Zerbrowski quizzically watched the pair stride purposefully towards Jason and the shifted Nathaniel, waving off his team and the local police that had started to cut off the two of them. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but the schoolteacher belonged here. He furrowed his brow speculatively, as his analytical mind clicked on the fact that Richard was always around the Master of the City and Anita, even though he was no longer an item with the Executioner. Even in situations, such as this, where he had no business being present. And he didn’t know who the dreadlocked black man was accompanying him, but he had the look and feel of a bodyguard. Interesting and out of place. He always had a hunch there was more to Richard than met the eye, he just couldn’t put his finger on what. It was only a matter of time before he figured out this little puzzle.

 

Damian began to pull away from Anita’s embrace, intent on intercepting the two werewolves before they could threaten his friends. To his surprise, his master tightened her hold on him, preventing him from interfering, an unfocused expression in her eyes. Damian gave her a startled look, and said, “I will not let Richard or Jamil hurt them, Anita. Even if they were strong enough to stand up to his power, they can’t defend themselves as they are now.”

 

Anita cupped Damian’s face, and explained in a soothing voice, “He’s angry, Damian, but he isn’t going to harm Jason, or Nathaniel. He’s Jason’s Ulfric, and it’s his job to keep the pack safe.”

 

“Ah. You spoke to him through the marks?” Damian asked.

 

“We both did. He normally shields from me and Jean-Claude, but he felt my fear at your call for help, and came to offer support. He purposely came here wide open so we could converse with him metaphysically.” Anita smiled ruefully. “He was rather descriptive and forceful in letting us know he wasn’t here to cause more trouble than had already taken place. Look, Jean-Claude isn’t trying to interfere, and he’s keeping Asher back as well.”

 

It was true. Asher was nodding his head in agreement, and Jean-Claude wasn’t even attempting to stop his werewolf Trimate. Damian gave a slightly jealous sigh as he relaxed in Anita’s hands. “I wish our Triumvirate was powerful enough to converse that easily mind to mind. We only seem to be able to communicate under times of duress.”

 

“We just haven’t tried, Damian. I don’t know what we’re capable of, because I don’t know how the hell this all works, really.” Anita began to click off points with her fingers. “Can you walk in daylight all the time now? What other power sharing have we all done? Hell, can you even taste food through me, like Jean-Claude can, because we share a master/servant bond?” 

 

Damian grinned broadly, his impossibly green eyes sparking with interest. “Taste food again? That I would give much for!”

 

Anita chuckled at her servant’s enthusiastic expression. “Power, Day walking, Telepathy, and you’re practically having an orgasm over tasting food again? What the hell could you miss that much?”

 

“Beer,” he answered promptly. “Or more precisely, lager. Cold, dark, and strong enough to put warmth and comfort in a man’s belly.” Grinning at her, he folded his arms across his chest, and waited for her outburst. She did not disappoint him.

 

“BEER! What is with you vampires and drinking? Isn’t blood enough for you people? Jean-Claude still wants me to drink red wine; you want me to drink beer; and I DESPISE the taste of alcohol! Not to mention the calories; I put on another pound with all the desserts he wheedles and cajoles me into eating,” Anita raved, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

 

Damian scoffed at her and stood his ground. “You asked, Anita. It is only an experiment, after all; we are not sure it is an ability we have gained. But if it is, would you deny me this one small thing?”

 

Anita sighed as she saw the resolve and longing in his face. She ran her hands through her hair in defeat. “Ok, Ok, fine – if it works, I’ll try a light beer for you! Something low in calories…” She trailed off at the look of disgust and horror on her vampire’s face. Perplexed, she asked, “What’s wrong now?”

 

It was Damian’s turn to rant. “LIGHT BEER? If I wished to taste water after a millennium of want, I would have requested water! That, that is an abomination of beer!” He waved his hand dismissively. Apparently some of Jean-Claude’s Gallic gestures had rubbed off on the Viking. “If you are going to indulge me in this fantasy, it has to be a full bodied lager, or ale; SOMETHING a man can drink, not a frilly ladies brew!”

 

Anita shot a final glance at Richard before turning back to negotiate with Damian. He needed to clear the air with Jason, as much as she had needed to have a heart to heart with her Vampire Servant. There was too much left unsaid, too many wrong conclusions between all of them. It was time to leave hurt feelings behind and move on. Damian trusted her judgment, and was no longer concerned that Richard intended violence. 

 

Jason needed to relearn that sort of trust in his Ulfric. Everyone seemed to be working out long festering issues this evening. It was Richard’s and Jason’s turns now.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Jason had started out of his reverie when he heard a car coming hard up the gravel. He grimaced as he watched a familiar Jeep skid to a halt next to the police cars. Great, Richard had arrived, and was heading straight for him with Jamil striding protectively behind. His wonderful evening was now complete.

 

He felt the woman tending to him pause and stiffen in alarm. Paramedic Patricia Dougherty may be a strong willed lady with nerves of steel and ice water for blood, but even she had her limits. Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked at the approaching men and asked, “Are they shifter friends of yours, or do I have a world of hurt coming at me right now?”

 

Jason was stunned. This was not good; Jamil was out, but Richard still clung to his schoolteacher, harmless Boy Scout image. He hadn’t proclaimed his Lycanthrope status yet, let alone admitted to the fact that he was the werewolf king. “What makes you think they’re shifters?” he sputtered, his anxiety at Richard’s approach momentarily forgotten.

 

“I know a shifter when I feel one, and all the hairs on my arms and at the back of my neck are standing straight up with the power coming off of the two of them. Are they in the closet or something, that you’re trying to cover for them? All the better if they are. They won’t be inclined to start something then, will they?” She was still watching the approaching men warily. “And to answer your question, my mom was a psychic, and I inherited some of her ability to sense things. Those two gorgeous studs are shifters, they’re really strong, and they’re angry. I just don’t want to get hurt in the crossfire, and I’m going to if he’s they’re here to pound you two. I didn’t patch you up to stand back and watch you get ripped up,” she said resolutely.

 

“Neither will I”, Micah’s voice said behind them. No one had noticed that Micah and Merle had made their way over. They flowed past the three of them, calmly heading Richard and his Skoll off before they could reach Jason and Nat.

 

Micah stopped in front of Richard, his yellow-green cat’s eyes coolly apprising the larger man. Jamil had made an abortive move to come between the two alphas, but Merle had quickly squared off with him to take him out of the equation and leave the altercation where it belonged, between the two lycanthrope leaders.

 

Micah made the first move to control the situation. “Let’s try to keep this low key,” he reasoned. “I may be a known shifter, Richard, but you’re not. It wouldn’t be in your best interest to start a battle here, and there’s going to be one if you try to hurt one of my cats. And I’ll extend my protection to Jason, too, as a friend, if he wants it.”

 

Richard’s voice took on that low, deep quality it had when is beast began to rise. His power coalesced around him, and he focused it on the smaller man in front of him. “Think you’re strong enough to stop me, Micah? This is a pack affair, and Jason’s mine to protect. I am his Ulfric, not you. Stand aside.” He was tired of everyone expecting the worse of him; he knew his track record was not good in this regard, but damn it, he was trying, and neither Anita nor Jean-Claude had made a move to stop him. What right did the Nimir-Raj have to do so?

 

Micah was impressed by Richard’s strength, but undaunted. He knew the man disliked him, perhaps even hated him, but to openly challenge him in public when he still was in the closet was lunacy. 

 

He knew the werewolf was powerful, even before getting amped up with the dual triumvirates, but Micah always pitied the man’s self-loathing and inability to accept who and what he was. Richard needed to step up to the plate and accept the mantle of leadership he had killed to obtain. Perhaps it was time to take the wolf by the tail and do an intervention.

 

But first he needed to defuse the situation. He started with a simple question. 

 

“Why are you here, Richard?”

 

It was not the reaction or response Richard had wanted. Road to hell notwithstanding, he had come here with good intentions and no one was giving him the benefit of the doubt. And now, this runt of an interloper dared to stop and question him? His righteous indignation was justified. He fell back on the one emotion he embraced willingly. 

 

Hot, indignant anger stoked his power, and he could feel it burn in his veins, in his heart, in his very soul. He was surprised at the depths of his resentment for Micah. Or, in a moment of clarity, of what he represented. It seemed as though the wereleopard leader had everything he had wanted to achieve - a relationship with Anita; a pard that loved him as a leader; total acceptance of his beast, and all that entailed; and an unselfish creation of the Furry Coalition in order to help all the shifters of St Louis, to bend the antiquated rules they followed and make them all help each other in times of need. Everything he had wanted to achieve with the pack by defeating Marcus and Raina, but was unable to bring about.

 

Eyes bleeding to wolf amber, he showed the worse he had to Micah and waited for his reaction. Half of him fervently wanted to shift, to fight the Alpha Leopard that dared to challenge him. The other half whispered warnings of losing his anonymity if he did, of losing what was left of his humanity and a normal life. The true bitch of it was, he no longer knew which half he really wanted to win.

 

Micah stood his ground, seemingly unfazed by the continued display of power. He kept his own beast in check; he wasn’t looking to escalate this to a fight he wasn’t sure he could win. It wasn’t the time or the place. He just wanted to let the man know he wasn’t going to allow him to take his temper out on Nathaniel or Jason, and try to make him be the leader the Thronnos Rokke clan needed to survive.

 

“I’m not a low ranking wolf in your pack, Richard, to abase myself before a display of power like that. You say you’re his Ulfric; fine. Be his Ulfric. I’m here to help, just like everyone else who responded to Anita’s call. You never answered my question – why are you here? Just what does a schoolteacher intend to do?”

 

Richard was shocked at Micah’s composed demeanor, and that the man kept pressing him for an answer. The truth of it stung, but it was a pain he had inflicted on himself many times in the past as he struggled with who he was, and how to properly lead those who looked to him for protection and safety. What could he do in situations like this, hiding his Lycanthrope status, other than sweep in after the fact and see that Jason was alright? He still clung to his former life, and it hurt his ability to lead. Others always had to be in the forefront, to be the ones his pack turned to in times of need.

 

But he wasn’t ready to admit this to a man who he still felt usurped his position, his life, with Anita. “I never asked for this, Micah,” he snarled, cradling his anger to him like a security blanket. 

 

“No one asks for this, Richard. Do you think I asked to be bitten as a child? To have my family blame me for surviving the attack, when my uncle died trying to protect me? But I was what I was; nothing was going to change that. And there were compensations – I was strong, an Alpha. I could do the best I could to make a difference for my people.”

 

Micah took a deep breath before continuing. He had the man’s attention, and he was going to hammer his point home while he had the chance. “ Let me tell you a saying I learned from Damian. I asked him once how he survived so long with that scary bitch who made him. He said he learned to stop fighting what destiny had handed him and to ‘ride the waves’ of whatever came at him. It’s all you can do, Richard. Ride the waves of fate, and make the most of what you’ve been dealt.”

 

He may not like the man, but Richard knew Micah was talking sense to him, and he allowed his power to dissipate, to push his beast back. This wasn’t something his wolf instincts could deal with; it wasn’t a challenge fight. It was a soul searching, and a time for decisions that were long overdue. He just wasn’t sure he was prepared to make them yet.

 

Micah saw the change in Richard’s eyes, and stepped aside, hands splayed outward in a sign of appeasement as he uttered his final words of advice. “You have to choose, Ulfric, between being the werewolf king providence meant you to be, or being the schoolteacher and family man you thought you were going to be. One is reality, one is a pipe dream. You have to decide which is which. But for Christ’s sake and the good of your people, Richard, decide soon.”

 

Richard nodded his head, and held his hand out to Micah in a show of conciliation. He may never like the man, but he was right, and he couldn’t fault him for his logic or his intentions. So he shook his hand, and turned towards the reason he was here this evening. Jason. He could see the young man watching him with a barely concealed nervousness. It wasn’t always like that; Jason once trusted him and looked to him for protection. He hoped that wasn’t lost forever.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Jason had been watching the exchange between Micah and Richard intently, and was stunned to see the Nimir-raj step aside and allow Richard to approach. It’d been a long damn day, and he just wasn’t up to being abused as an outlet for his werewolf master’s temper. He braced himself as Richard reached him, uncertain on how this was going to turn out.

 

Richard looked at the young paramedic tending to Jason, and with a winning smile on his face, politely asked, “Could you excuse us a moment, please?”

 

Patricia pointedly looked at Jason first, who smiled and nodded his head, saying, “Thanks a lot, Ms. Dougherty. I’ll be okay.”

 

From her audible sniff, Patricia made it known that she was dubious about the outcome of this, but swiftly packed up and moved away. Jason watched wistfully as she left. That was one firecracker of a woman, and he knew he was sending away his last shield against Richard. The question was, who was Richard going to be this evening?

 

He soon had his answer. It was his Ulfric standing in front of him, staring down with crossed arms, not just Richard. He felt Nathaniel bravely hang onto his back, even though he could feel the wereleopard’s heart pounding in fear. Richard still frightened Nat badly; the werewolf leader was intimidating in size and power, and he still harbored an unreasoning hatred for the little stripper because of his involvement with Anita. Even so, Nathanial defiantly laid his ears back and hissed a warning at the much stronger Alpha. 

 

Jason sensed that Richard was enjoying Nat’s terror, and was trying to hide it. The muscular alpha stared at the shivering black wereleopard, dominating him with his will. Two cats opposing him in one evening was intolerable. “Do you challenge me, Nathaniel? I think that would be a mistake, especially since I’m not here to hurt anyone.” His power pulsed out, and Nathaniel whimpered in trepidation, lowering his eyes and assuming a more submissive pose in an instinctive effort to appease the stronger alpha. Richard smiled in triumph, his eyes shining with pleasure. There was a little bit of Gabriel in that look. A little bit of a Dom enjoying his power over a sub.

 

Jason spoke up to get the larger man’s attention off of Nathaniel, and he steeled himself for the expected confrontation. “Look, Richard, if you’re here to toss me around like a chew toy, I don’t think I’m up to it right now. Besides, you still haven’t replaced my bed yet. And we’re in public; it’s going to be kind of hard to explain, don’t you think?” He was careful not to look his master in the eyes; he didn’t want to antagonize his Ulfric anymore than he already was. It hurt that he was this intimidated by the man; they had been friends once, and Richard had been his protector and his surrogate family when he lost touch with his own because of his werewolf status.

 

Richard let out a groan of frustration. He was going to have to justify himself. Again. “Why do you think I’m here to hurt you, Jason? I’m your Ulfric, your protector. And no matter what you may feel, I’m still your friend. I came to help you, not beat on you.” With a pained look in his eyes, he sat down in front of them, and wrapped his arms around one bent knee. “Can I get an explanation of what the hell’s going on here? From the beginning, please?”

 

Jason swallowed audibly, and hesitated. He wanted to believe Richard was sincere, but the man was volatile, and as much as he hated to admit it he was afraid.

 

“Trust me, Jason. I want to know and help, if I can,” Richard sighed, leaning forward earnestly to add weight to his words. “I know everyone thinks I have a problem with alternate lifestyles, but if this has something to do with sexual orientation, I’ll understand. What I can’t figure out is how Damian is involved. I swore that vampire was homophobic.”

 

Jason couldn’t stop himself. He just burst out in gales of laughter. Even Nathaniel, nervous kitty that he was at the moment, was muffling his giggles against Jason’s back. Richard couldn’t have chosen a better ice breaker if he had tried. And wonder of wonders, he saw that Richard wasn’t annoyed, or taking affront at their, no pun intended, gaiety. In fact, he was smiling quizzically at the two of them, patiently waiting to be let in on the joke.

 

“Jesus, everyone accuses Jean-Claude of twisting everything around to sex.” He looked Richard in the eyes, and for the first time in far too long felt comfortable doing so. If Jean-Claude and Anita were any indication, the man just wasn’t going to see this coming, and he had every intention of enjoying his reaction.

 

“Nat and I discovered that Damian couldn’t read, and wanted to learn. Over the last few months, we’ve taught him how.”

 

Richard didn’t disappoint him. Jaw dropping in shock, he stuttered, “But, that’s ALL? The only thing that’s been going on is reading lessons? Why would you keep that hidden from me? Last I looked, I have a degree in teaching. The smart thing to do would have been to come to me from the beginning!”

 

Jason expression turned serious. “Do you want me to be honest with you, Richard? Can I, without you getting pissed off and hurting someone, namely me?”

 

Richard flinched at Jason’s question, but it was a valid one. His moods hadn’t been stable for some time now. “I think that’s what I need more of, Jason. Everyone being honest with me. Please, answer me. I swear on my honor I won’t get mad.”

 

Jason took a deep breath, and took the plunge. “Jesus, I wanted to talk to you, to discuss this with you, because I didn’t have a fucking clue how to teach someone to read, but I couldn’t for a lot of different reasons. Damian wanted it kept quiet, and he especially hadn’t wanted Anita to know. And Nathaniel wanted to help. If I had involved you, you would have taken charge, Anita would have known about it and interfered, and you would never have tolerated Nat being around. But that wasn’t the main reason. I know I haven’t been your favorite pack member for a long time now. I just didn’t think you would give a damn, or even want to help me.” He cringed at the naked look of sorrow on Richard’s face. He had never stopped loving or respecting the man, and it hadn’t been his intention to cause him pain, but the truth really did hurt, and there was no getting around it.

 

“I’m sorry, Jason. Sorry that you felt you couldn’t come to me, but I’m trying. I know things have to change, a lot of things, and I’m working on it. I’ve been proclaiming myself Ulfric for a while now, and as a wise man recently told me, I need to BE Ulfric.” He shook himself, then leaned forward eagerly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “So, my schoolteacher soul is burning with curiosity. How did you go about teaching a very old vampire a new trick?”

 

Jason smiled happily at his Ulfric’s question, and began to explain. He had wanted to discuss this with him since the beginning, for his input, and his approval. “Well, we kind of winged most of it, but I did do a lot of research on the Net, and once we got over the Dr. Seuss battle and decided on a nautical theme to make Damian feel more comfortable with the process, it went really well…”

 

Once Jason started, he enthusiastically filled him in on everything that had happened. He went on uninterrupted for the most part, Richard only occasionally cutting in to pay him a compliment or offer a suggestion of what might have worked better, until Jason got to his GED plan.

 

“I know Damian is content with what he’s learned, but he’s a damn intelligent man, and I know he could pass the GED with proper tutoring, and go on to college if he wanted to. And with Brewster’s law still hanging around, I figured that any good publicity the vampires can get would be a plus. And what could be more mainstream than trying to further yourself by getting an education? It would be one more proof that the American Vamps are really trying to adapt and fit in. And then, when Nat told me he didn’t have a high school diploma either, I figured that it couldn’t be any harder to teach two than one.”

 

Richard was outraged, his schoolteacher sensibilities offended. “You never graduated High School, Nathaniel? That’s just not acceptable! You need a diploma at minimum to get anywhere in this world. What were you thinking, for God’s sake?”

 

Nat tried to hide himself behind Jason, and answered fearfully, “I ran away from my last foster home at fifteen because I couldn’t take being called lazy and stupid, and being beaten for it. I was living on the streets then, just trying not to get killed. And I don’t need it to work in Jean-Claude’s clubs.” He continued defensively, “ Besides, I’m not the only one; Stephen and Gregory don’t have diplomas, either. And I’ll bet Zane never graduated. He always says he was too hyper for school.”

 

“I can’t believe this. That’s four of you, just out of our immediate circles. How many more are out there?” Richard ranted.

 

“You should talk to Sylvie, Ulfric. She’s your Freki, and she has a good memory of everyone in the pack. She would know.” Jason reasoned. He knew what was coming, and smiled. Give Richard a cause, and he was there one hundred percent.

 

“I should have known, Jason. I should have been involved enough to see to my people’s needs,” he said, chagrined. “I see everything through my own experiences, and that’s not the way a leader needs to be.”

 

“Not everyone had nice lives, Richard. Look at Damian; no one knew his secret because he was too busy trying to..”

 

“Ride the waves,” Richard interjected quietly, glancing over at the red haired vampire.

 

Jason continued. “Well, I was going to say just survive, but that works too. Everyone has a chance at safety now, with what all the preternatural leaders in St Louis are trying to do. Damian’s a perfect example. When you’re not just trying to meet your basic necessities, you can afford to think about other things.”

 

“Well, sure,” Richard said promptly. “A classic case of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.”

 

Jason beamed. “I love you, man! I tried to tell Jean-Claude that, and he promptly shut me up with a pained expression on his face.” He reached forward and grasped Richard’s arm. “I’ve really missed talking to you. I’ve been learning so much at school that I wanted to discuss with you and get your input about.”

 

“Don’t think you can connive your way into my doing your homework for you, Jason. I’m going to be busy tutoring a lot of weres, and at least one vampire, for the GED test.” Richard stood and stretched out. He felt good, about himself, his relationships, and his future. 

 

“I’m going to talk to Micah, and see if the coalition wants to get involved with getting the word out about the classes, and maybe helping to subsidize the cost of the tests, and education costs for anyone who wants to go further. And I’ll talk to Damian, and try to convince him to participate as well. If you think he’s college material, he should continue his schooling. I give him credit; you wouldn’t think a 1000 year old vampire with his history would take a chance like that. He’s a lucky man to have friends like you two. And I should thank him. If he hadn’t let his secret be known, I never would have started this ball rolling. Hell, there might even be other vampires interested.”

 

He looked pointedly at Nathaniel. “Nat, I know your afraid of me, I can practically taste it in the air. But I swear to you, I won’t hurt you or call you stupid, and I WILL teach you enough to pass that test. And I’m not going to give you, or any of my wolves, the option of saying no. So you’ll be attending, won’t you, Nat?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Nathaniel said meekly. There was no way his sub nature could say no to the command in Richard’s voice.

 

Richard smiled, and shocked everyone by unexpectedly reaching forward and stroking the black leopard’s ears. “Good boy,” he praised, then straitened and turned to find Micah. He needed to talk to the Nimir-Raj, about a lot of things. Maybe Damian’s secret wasn’t the only one that needed to be revealed.

 

FIN


End file.
